


Spider-Man: Stay at Home

by letsdaydreamtilwedreamagain



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Peter Parker, Coming Out, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Loves Peter Parker, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay Harley Keener, Harley Keener is a chaotic gay, Harley Keener's birthday, Harley's a bad dancer, How To Handle Rejection, M/M, MJ is a Good Bro, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant, Obliviousness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Pining, Prank Wars, Quarantine, Shovel Talk, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, and Harley just kisses him, and a terrible cook, because Tony Stark is A Protective Dad, but Peter can't dance either so it's fine, even though they barely know each other, looking for shooting stars, or well they try, peter's like hi I'm Peter, sooo Peter and Harley have to quarantine together, they do a Star Wars movie marathon, wingman!FRIDAY, wingman!mj
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsdaydreamtilwedreamagain/pseuds/letsdaydreamtilwedreamagain
Summary: “I’m Harley,” he blurted out.Peter stared at him with wide eyes, blinking rapidly, his mouth agape like he was struggling to catch his breath just like Harley was. Well, this surely was one way to say hello.*In which Peter and Harley have to self-quarantine at the Tower, Peter is like, "this boy? my new bf. as in, best friend. ofc. why are you laughing stop it" and Harley just wants this absolute disaster of a boy to get out of his head. (And maybe be his.)
Relationships: Harley Keener & Harley Keener's Sister, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Harley Keener & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Shuri, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 397
Kudos: 1115
Collections: Neddea's favourites





	1. hi i'm harley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel like I’m crossing boundaries at any point in this fic please tell me so and I‘ll do my best to change that! I don’t want to trigger anyone’s anxiety or belittle the current situation.

Peter was nervous. Like, lip-chewing finger-picking not-being-able-to-sit-still-nervous. He had been sipping from the same hot chocolate since an hour now, not really for the drinking part, but rather to have something to do with his hands.

“Pete,” Tony started as Peter paced about the the lab. “If you don’t stop running around the room within the next minute I’m going to throw you out of the lab, and don’t think I’m joking.”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark.” Peter sat down on his bench again, but soon enough his leg started bouncing under the table and Tony rolled his eyes at him with a long suffering sigh. “It’s just—“ Peter groaned in frustration, already aware of how idiotic his next words would sound to the man. “—What if he doesn’t like me? That would be like, terrible, since you want us to work together and all. He’s probably so much smarter than me, I mean, you said he built his own A.I. when he was 14?” Peter knew he was rambling and could clearly see Tony tilting his head as he watched him, probably fascinated by his ability to worry about everything and nothing. But the man was a billionaire, the probably most self-assured man to ever walk this earth, so it kind of wasn’t his place to judge him. “He’ll be annoyed because I can’t keep up with him and I’ll probably bore him to hell, Mr. Stark!“

The sight that presented itself to Pepper as she stepped into her husband’s laboratory must’ve been quite intriguing – himself, speaking rapidly about the absolute mess that was his life and Tony, speechlessly watching him in exasperation. She cleared her throat and both whipped around at the sound.

“Thank god, Pepper, you’re here! Save me please!” Tony whined and Peter shot him a glare.

“What’s going on?” Pepper asked, raising an eyebrow with a smile already playing around her lips.

Tony just snorted in response. “He’s worried Harley won’t like him. Because apparently Peter’s too stupid to work with him and is going to bore him.” Tony looked at his wife pointedly and Pepper chuckled. The way Tony said it it _did_ sound a bit stupid.

“That _could_ happen!“ he defended himself. „I mean, he’s never been to New York, right? He’s probably going to be really disappointed when he realizes he has to spend time with me instead of some fancy New Yorker.”

He felt pathetic, whining about something like this. Peter knew there were much more important things going on in the world around him right now, but somehow it all didn’t feel as real as the impending doom of being disliked by someone Tony adored so clearly. He had been worrying about Harley coming to New York ever since his mentor had told him about the plan a few days ago, just as May and Tony had decided it would be better if Peter stayed at the tower instead of at their apartment on his own. And he wasn't being irrational, was he? He loved his friends and his hobbies, he did, but he also knew the looks Flash and other classmates threw at them when Ned would present a new Lego set to Peter in the hallway, as much as he tried to ignore them. It wasn't like he expected this boy from Tennessee to be someone like _Flash,_ but it really wasn’t too far-fetched to assume Harley would have the same resentment to their nerdy behavior. „I’m not the coolest lab partner one could imagine, Mr. Stark, that’s just the truth.“

Tony shook his head with a lopsided grin on his face and sauntered over to Peter’s workbench. “I know _you_ and all of your friends and still I can truthfully say that Harley Keener is one of the biggest nerds I’ve met my entire life.”

“Harley’s basically a Mini-Tony,” Pepper added.

“Hey!”

Peter slumped into a chair and sighed in defeat, “As if that would make anything better in the _slightest_. That actually just makes the whole thing so much worse.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Hey!”

Pepper ignored Tony’s dramatic bewilderment and walked over to Peter, where she ran her hands through his hair and looked at him earnestly. “Honey, Harley’s a good kid. A bit of a handful sometimes and well, the Mini-Tony thing, but apart from that. He’s going to love you.” She smiled at him, “Who wouldn’t?” and there was something about her saying that so confidently that almost made Peter believe her.

“Thanks, Pepper.”

Peter had always found there was something soothing about Pepper, even back when he had just met Tony and only saw her in fleeting moments when he came to the Tower to work with his mentor occasionally. It was as if she always had somewhere to be, someone to scold (mostly Tony though) or something to sign with her fancy cursive signature. And yet, she smiled at him warmly whenever he would greet her with a high-pitched, "Hi, Miss Potts!" and told him about her day if he asked. And as he started to come over more frequently, she was the one who had brought up to get him a room for staying over when it got a bit late on lab days, and asked him if he would want her to introduce him to a few scientists in the R&D department some floors down.

One thing that was also up there on the _list of things that are great about Pepper Potts liking you_ was the fact that it pissed Tony off. Not only did he glare at him whenever Peter called her Pepper, he also kept on complaining about how Peter always seemed to be needed somewhere else around the Tower. Today was no difference.

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt this sweet bonding time or something," Tony clapped his hands as if to wrap up the discussion, "But the kid’s gonna turn up here soon and the emotions should have been aired out by then, he isn’t really good with that sort of thing.”

Peter felt himself tense up at the reminder, but then Pepper leaned down to him and muttered, just loud enough so Tony heard her still, “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” and both of them had to grin at that.

“Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. What did you come here for anyway, Pep?”

Pepper turned her attention to her husband again and put her business face on. “Well, I actually just came here to tell you that you’re supposed to go on a mission. The jet is taking off in twenty minutes.”

“What happened?” Peter asked, glad to push his anxious thoughts aside for a minute.

“Some people aren’t taking the new restrictions too well. It’s not necessarily something the Avengers have to get involved in, but I think it would be good for people to see you on the streets. Just making sure everything’s going the way it’s supposed to. I'll leave with you, there are some people to be calmed down and things to sort out. And besides that, it’s highly probable that the city is going to call upon the public officially to self-quarantine within the next few hours, and you should make sure everybody gets that,” Pepper explained. "Steve and the others are already out."

Since the crisis had started most of the Avengers weren't really on duty anymore, if you could call it that. Clint and Scott were back with their families, Thor hadn't been on the planet in the first place and _probably_ wasn't planning on coming back right now, and, well, Peter didn't really know where the others disappeared to when a mission was over. Nat, Steve and Bruce were still staying at the Tower though, even though Peter hadn't really seen them in the last days since Tony wanted him to stay on their floor most of the time.

“Where are we gonna go first?” Peter had already stood up and pondered what equipment he’d need to put together for this unusual mission. Maybe he should bring toilet paper rolls instead of taser webs.

“Forget it, Pete, you’re not coming with us.”

“What?" Peter turned to Tony dumbfounded. "We need to help. We have to make sure everybody stays at home and that everybody has what they need to self-quarantine.” His eyes shifted to Pepper, hoping she would explain what Tony was on about, but she just sighed and looked at Tony for his reply.

“I know that, kid. But _you’re _not going to come with us. Do you have any idea what could happen to you if you were infected? ‘Cause I don’t, and I’d prefer not to find out.” Tony was looking at him intently. Peter knew that expression - he'd seen it after the ferry incident a few years ago and also when he may or may not had been the cause of a small fire in the kitchen a few months back and Tony had banned him from it for, well, forever.__

“But—I could just swing by hospitals and—I don’t know, make sure they have enough equipment. I don’t even have to be in contact with anyone! I can just—“

“No, Peter," Tony cut him off, the _I have made a decision and I’m not backing down from it-_ look evident on his face. "We have no idea how your mutation could react to the virus. What if it mutates the virus itself and then you infect somebody and it’s worse than it is right now? You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

Peter sighed. It was like Tony knew exactly what he had to say to make him stay, and Peter hated it, but somehow it worked. Because he was right.

“You’re staying.”

Peter just grumbled in response and fell back into the chair. He wanted to counter, he wanted to list all the reasons he would be helpful and how he _needed_ to be out there with them, but Tony was still looking at him like that and Pepper didn't seem to disagree with her husband as she gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Incoming call from Harley Keener, Boss,” FRIDAY chimed through the lab, effectively thwarting any attempt to change their minds. Tony averted his eyes from Peter and just nodded to indicate that FRIDAY should connect the call.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Hey, Tony," a boy's voice filled the room, "I’m gonna be at the Tower in like, half an hour and—“ He could be heard sighing on the other end of the line. “Well, are you still sure about this? What if I already have it? I really think I can handle myself on my own, people everywhere are isolatin' alone, it’s no big deal.”

That was the exact same thing Peter had also told Tony, Pepper and May, and they hadn’t even thought about backing down for just a second. He would say Harley's chances to convince the pair were small to non-existent, even without his aunt's protective worries added onto theirs.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that? And I’m standing by what I said before, you’re not staying on your own in Tennessee, Keener, forget it." Tony shook his head in disapproval. "What is it with teens wanting to put themselves in danger?”

“We have no will to live, you should know that by now, old man,” the boy retorted and Peter couldn’t help but snort at the answer.

“Well, anyway, I won’t be there when you arrive, but Peter is here, you know, my personal intern I told you about? He’s really excited to meet you,” Tony said and glanced at Peter slyly. Peter groaned.

“The one you gush over all the time? How could I forget?” Tony grimaced in embarrassment and Peter snickered. Tony had _gushed_ over him? Peter wasn’t sure whether he should feel embarrassed because he had done it in front of the other boy or feel flattered that he had done it at all.

“Ugh. Why would you expose me like that?”

Short pause. “Wait—is he listenin’ right now?” Harley asked.

Peter froze and stared at the man panic-stricken. _Abort mission, I repeat—_

“Yeah, he is. Say hi, Pete.” Now Tony was grinning again, his embarrassment already forgotten. Sometimes, Peter absolutely despised his mentor.

“Hey,” Peter squeaked out, “I’m—I’m Peter.” Ugh, why did he say that? Harley already knew who he was.

“So I’ve heard. Well, I’m gonna see you soon, Tony.” There was a scuffle on the other end of the line and then, “Bye!”

“Call disconnected,” FRIDAY announced.

Tony frowned in confusion and Pepper pursed her lips and Peter knew exactly what everybody in the room was thinking in that moment of silence. There was a little too much terseness in the boy’s answer as soon as Peter had been involved to think of anything else really. He hadn’t even met Harley yet and he was already annoyed with him. Great.

“He’s probably just exhausted from the flight.” Tony gave him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah. Probably.”

*

Harley was jealous. Like, curt-answers and hastily-hanging-up-jealous. There was just no other explanation for this, as much as Harley wanted to find one for this feeling he got whenever Tony brought up his _personal intern._ When that had first occurred, Harley had thought for a hot second that maybe he was his secret biological child or something and he couldn’t help but notice the bubbling anger in his chest as he thought about that. Tony quickly made it clear that the boy wasn’t his, that he had only took notice of him because he was so intelligent and innovative and somehow that made everything even worse.

It was like the other boy was pointing at him and laughing, _“A kid from Tennessee with zero education and daddy issues? You really thought he would choose_ you _and let you work with him?”_ Harley knew it was stupid and silly but, yes, that’s exactly what he had thought ever since the mechanic had left him on the cold streets of Rose Hill. _Maybe, maybe_ Tony would invite him to New York because he had seen that there was no way anything would become of him in this town.

Then, he came home one afternoon to a full-on private _workshop in his garage_ that probably costed more than what his mother had earned in her entire life, stocked with equipment and materials and _a fucking car_ and honestly, what was he supposed to think other than _he cares, he actually cares._ And it was nice. Tony would send him material he needed or blueprints to recreate devices off of on his own and the years went by and Harley went to school and tried to do his homework even though he already knew all of it, and every time Tony called he got excited and hoped, just hoped for anything to happen, but it never did happen anything. That was, until Tony told him about this boy he had met. And Harley realized that it would need a lot more to get Tony to invite him to New York.

_A lot more_ came in the form of a global virus crisis, his mother working in an essential job and his sister being quarantined at her work place, which left him on his own – not what he had thought of, but well.

His mother called Tony and then Tony called him and then Harley stood before a private jet with luggage packed for several weeks on his side before he even knew what the hell had just happened and how he'd gotten from sulking in his small-town bedroom to, well, a _private jet._

Now, Harley was standing in front of the door to a lab on the 84th floor of Stark Tower, thoughts twirling through his head like dough when making cookies. Oh, he would love some right now. Kind of beside the point, though.

If Harley were a poetic person, this moment could clearly symbolize some crazy turning point in his life: The door to his year-long fantasizing was right before his eyes, waiting for him to step inside and do what he’s been born for. Not to mention that it had been an actual voice from above that had led him here.

But Harley wasn’t a poet and he was quite sure it had just been the tower’s A.I. that told him where to go. And behind the door wasn’t Tony, waiting for him with a screwdriver in hand, but his _genius personal intern._ (Yes, maybe Harley was a bit petty.) (And maybe he _was_ projecting his hopelessness onto an undeserving tiny wonder child, but he wasn’t a psychologist either, so he couldn’t really bring himself to care.) Also, Harley was pretty sure he hadn’t been born for this, or he would’ve strolled into the lab already minutes ago like he owned the place and not stood before it waiting for—yeah, what for? The overthinking to be swept away?

Harley touched the pad next to the door frame and the door slid open, revealing the probably most expensive and fascinating room he had ever seen. There were numerous work benches spread throughout the room and every one of them was littered with working parts and tools and blueprints. There was a giant glass wall overlooking the skyscrapers of the city and an Iron Man suit on a table, looking like someone had just performed an open heart surgery on it.

“Uh, hi, I’m Peter. Parker. Well, you already know that. Yet again.”

Oh.

_Oh._

During all this time, he had imagined to face an arrogant cocky genius wonder child as his opponent. And honestly, he could’ve perfectly dealt with that. Arrogance wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with really. But this. This wasn’t what his petty self had signed up for.

And maybe he should overthink his reluctance towards a poetic career, because there sure was something angelic about the boy standing in the midst of the lab. The light coming from the windows was illuminating his curls like a halo around his head and his lips were curling into a shy smile. He seemed a bit out of place, with his worn-out jeans and ratty shoes and _oh, well,_ a science pun t-shirt. With the boy pushing his goggles atop his head and mussing up his curls even more than they already were, the air was pushed out of Harley's lungs completely.

It was as if Harley was being drawn towards the boy. He was making his way into the room and coming to a halt just steps away from him, sucking in his breath at the small space left between them.

His heart was beating way too quickly and he couldn’t advert his eyes and he couldn’t think and the boy looked up at him and suddenly Harley was leaning down and pressing his lips to his. They were soft and warm against Harley's own and his heart was exploding inside of his chest. The boy gasped into the kiss and suddenly the thoughts came rushing back into Harley's head, _oh god, he was so stupid,_ and he shot up again, bringing space between their bodies and _oh fuck._

_What the hell had he just done?_

“I’m Harley,” he blurted out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates will follow soon! yay
> 
> also, I'm not a native speaker so if there are any major errors please point them out to me (this is probably a disaster) (but I had fun writing it so whatever)
> 
> kudos and comments would mean a lot! like, really.


	2. is this a list?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's get back to our favorite disaster boys!

“I’m Harley,” he blurted out.

His voice sounded breathless and strained to him and Peter stared at him with wide eyes, blinking rapidly, his mouth agape like he was trying to catch his breath just like Harley was.

Well, this surely was _one_ way to say hello.

Panic. That’s what it was that was surging through his body, making him stand before the boy like a deer caught in the headlights. Pure panic.

He really needed to say something. Anything.

He tried to get his breathing under control again and managed a shaky smile.

_Say something. Now!_

“It’s a—it’s a tradition.”

He blinked. So far, so good. Now he just needed to roll with it.

“In Tennessee. Rose Hill. It’s like, a common greeting. Everybody does it. You couldn’t know I’d do that. Sorry.” Perfect. The most perfect safe Harley had ever managed. “Didn’t want to make ya uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Peter breathed out. “No, you didn’t, it’s—it’s alright.”

He had totally creeped him out, that much was sure. But at least Peter hadn’t immediately broken out into laughter at his explanation, so maybe he wouldn’t have to hide in the guest bathroom for the next couple of weeks. Maybe just for one.

They stood in front of each other then, silence between them, Peter blushing furiously and well, that was more of a sight than Harley could’ve imagined.

“Well, it’s—nice to meet you.”

It seemed that Peter was just as glad as Harley felt to fill the awkward silence. “You too. Mr. Stark told me a lot about you.”

“He did? Wait. You call him Mr. Stark? That’s funny. He was literally braggin’ to me how well he got along with someone my age and you’re not calling him by his first name?”

A grin appeared on Peter’s face, a mischievous glint in his eyes. And oh no, it was adorable. “I just do that because it annoys him. He’s been asking me to call him Tony since like, a year now.”

Harley felt himself relax a bit again, the tension slipping from his shoulders. They were in safe waters again. “I like the way you think.”

Peter adverted his eyes then, still smiling though, and turned to clean his hands with a towel on the table. Harley felt the urge to ask what he’d been working on, but then, _maybe_ he shouldn’t invade his personal space any more than he already did.

“Well, do you want to see your room then?”

He would literally do _anything_ if it meant getting away from the most embarrassing moment in his life so far. “Sure, take it away.”

Harley wasn’t sure whether Peter had misunderstood his prompt or just thought of it as natural, but before he knew what was going on Peter had swiftly grabbed his luggage and was strolling towards the lab entrance. Harley wasn’t unathletic or anything, but still he had to admit that his packing hadn’t been ideal and there wasn’t _really_ any necessity to bring his entire collection of potato gun designs. However, Peter was picking up his belongings like they weighed nothing more than a purse.

Why would the universe do this to him? Why would it give him a small adorably pretty and shy genius boy and then also make him _strong?_

And then put a sticker on him saying, _Beware, quarantine-companion for an unknown lapse of time and also probably not interested! (And totally creeped out by you.)_

And _then_ give him the self-control of a Chihuahua that just saw another Chihuahua on the street?

“You coming?”

Harley quickly followed him, trying to push his thoughts aside. “Is anybody else here?” he asked as they exited the laboratory and walked down the corridor.

“No, not on this floor. Most of the employees left at the beginning of the week to self-quarantine,” Peter explained. “There’s always some work that they can do from home, but some employees like scientists in development departments can’t really do anything at home, those are just exempt from work. There are some people that can’t really just put down their work, those are allowed to come to their work areas. But we’re in the penthouse, so there wouldn’t be anyone here anyway.”

“Was that Tony’s lab then?”

Peter responded with a shy smile playing around his lips, “Uh, well, actually it’s mine. But since I’m staying here he comes to work there with me most of the time.”

Before Harley could ask him to elaborate on how the hell he got _his own laboratory_ , Peter stopped and pushed open the door next to them. “There we are.”

The room wasn’t as enormous as one could expect in Stark Tower, but still he could probably fit his entire kitchen and living room inside of it. (Not that he would want to do that.) It basically screamed expensive. The bed was as high as those in hotel rooms and on one side the room was completely bounded by a big window offering the same view the lab had as well. Everything was sleek and shiny, up to the rich-people painting opposite the door. Next to the bed stood an acoustic guitar, and Harley had to grin.

“No flat screen?” he joked, as he saw that the dresser opposite the bed was empty.

Peter just rolled his eyes and raised his voice, “FRIDAY, would you be so kind?” and the wall above the dresser promptly illuminated and a hologram-like surface displayed a selection of streaming services. “Welcome, Mr. Keener. Would you like some entertainment recommendations?”

Harley snorted.

“He could’ve just build in a TV.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t even explain why.”

“’Cause why not?”

“That’s Mr. Stark’s life motto.”

They grinned at each other. Maybe not all was lost.

“And where’s your room?”

_Jesus_ , Harley.

“Just one door to the left from yours.” Peter seemed a bit out of his element again, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Well, I actually have to sort out some things a few floors down? You can just, uh, make yourself comfortable or … yeah, I don’t know.”

Harley nodded, and before he knew it Peter had disappeared out the door, leaving him to plop down onto the enormous bed and exhale heavily.

*

Harley pretty much spent his following alone-time trying to convince himself that he hadn’t entirely messed up within the first few seconds of meeting his cute and handsome new lab partner. Which was kind of hard, since he was _quite_ sure that he had indeed _kissed_ said boy before even introducing himself. Well, this could definitely be considered as some kind of introduction, right?

When Peter finally came back they decided to order from a small Thai place Peter knew just a few blocks from the tower.

“We’ve got to support small businesses!” Peter had exclaimed when Harley suggested to get pizza and Harley wasn’t about to argue with him on that.

Peter had yet to bring up the greeting incident, so Harley slowly dared to believe the boy had actually bought his stupid (and apparently also genius) comity lie, which _did_ make him worry a bit about the image Peter had of the southern states and their residents. Not that he was complaining.

When they were done eating and the sun slowly set behind the grand glass walls, Peter said he still had to get some stuff done in the lab and Harley was eager to visit it again, even considering the risk of doing something very stupid (again), so he asked whether he could come with him. Peter just replied with a, “Sure!” and that was that.

“Did I interrupt you working or something? What’s this?” Harley pointed at a set of black tiny metal parts that were spread on the table Peter had been working at before Harley had arrived.

“Uh.” Peter stepped closer and winced noticeably as he saw what Harley was talking about. In one quick motion, he grabbed the parts and shoved them into a drawer next to him. “It’s—it’s nothing.”

Not suspicious at all.

Harley just chose to ignore his nervous antics and continued talking, curiosity clear in his voice, “They’re Spider-Man’s web-shooters, aren’t they? Tony sent me blueprints of them some months ago,” he explained as he saw Peter throwing him a questioning look.

Harley had almost freaked out when he had opened the file Tony gave him access to and took in the schemes and sketches that he was presented with.

Abby had just told him to “tone down this fanboy-gaping a bit,” ‘cause it apparently made her “dizzy from eye-rolling so much.”

Harley was fascinated by the hero ever since Tony had told him about his involvement in the airport fight and he had searched for New York’s vigilante on YouTube. Maybe it was the hero’s incredible strength, or the mysterious wall-sticking, or the fact that he seemed to be flying through the air without the tiniest bit of fear of miscalculating his next swing and facepalming into the asphalt from forty stories high. And perhaps Spider-Man’s, well, how to say it, _well-toned_ body was also contributing to his excitement, when Tony finally gave in and sent him some of his work with the young hero.

Peter cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, yeah, it’s Spider-Man tech. He asked me to improve the durability of the webs a bit ‘cause it tends to dissolve at high temperatures sometimes, when he has to go into a burning building or something,” he explained, “and that’s, well, kinda dangerous because it’s possible that the strings just snap when … when he tries to web something again.”

Peter rambled on, and there was _something_ in the way he talked and fixed his eyes on his hands while doing so that made everything make a little more sense, how Tony had told him about a random intern that almost seemed to appear out of nowhere, and how Peter had hidden the web-shooters frantically and before Harley even needed to try to find any more reasons to support his theory he was sure of it.

That the stuttering boy before him _wasn’t_ some random genius intern, but a superhero and not even _any_ superhero, but _Spider-Man_.

His jaw must be leaving a dent in the floor in that moment, but fortunately Peter was still examining his hands so carefully as if they might be made of amber and didn’t notice his shocked state.

_Spider-Man was Peter. Peter was Spider-Man._

Really, an average genius intern would have been too boring, Universe, huh?

“—and well, the formula’s been changed like, a million times, but it’s always possible to make it even better—“

Harley wanted so badly to burst out into questions and squeals, but he held himself back. He was quite surprised, but his rational thinking hadn’t been completely switched out by now which gave him the capability to actually think before he acted.

Peter was clearly trying his best to convince Harley that he and Spider-Man were completely different persons, which was kinda logical, because they had only met a few hours ago and he surely didn’t want to reveal his secret identity.

“—and there’s always new web combinations to develop so that I—uh, _Spider-Man_ can choose—“

He wasn’t really doing a good job with that, though.

Well, there apparently _was_ a reason Harley had figured him out the first second he opened his mouth to talk about Spider-Man. But he could tell that Peter _thought_ he was doing a good job and somehow Harley couldn’t bring himself to destroy that belief.

He gritted his teeth and tried to make his voice sound as casual as he could muster. (Considering that this still was his cute quarantine-companion who now _also_ appeared to be his superhero crush.) ('Cause why not, right?) “You develop weapons for Spider-Man? That’s really awesome, darlin’.”

“Thanks,” Peter kind of ducked his head at that, but Harley still saw his face lighting up. Success.

“He just tells me when he needs me to make amendments, but Mr. Stark made him the suit so it’s really no big deal.”

“That _is_ a big deal,” _It was. It really was. A big deal that was now going to be living with him for the next few weeks._ “I mean, he’s an Avenger, isn’t he?”

“Uh, no, not really. He fights with them when they need support but he isn’t like, an official team member.” His voice was a bit off at that point, like there was a story behind it he would rather not unpack.

“Still a big deal. Spider-Man’s pretty awesome.”

_Why_ was there no filter between his stupid brain and his even more stupid mouth?

“You think so?” Peter asked hopefully.

Well, he might as well run with the truth for now. “Yup.” Harley pushed back from the table he had leaned against during their conversation and started to wander about the lab. “He’s easily the coolest superhero,” he said and it was almost like he could _hear_ Peter grinning behind him.

“Huh. Why do you think so?”

Harley almost snorted with laughter. _Fishing for compliments much?_ , he wanted to say, but held himself back in the last moment. There’d come a better time. If he thought about it, this whole situation was actually quite hilarious.

“Dunno, he just seems grounded, like he actually cares about the people and isn’t like, fighting to save the entire world. Plus, he’s pretty hot.”

Not _so_ much truth, dammit.

Peter sputtered and oh god, that boy truly was an absolute disaster himself. Harley had a feeling he wouldn’t want to change it for the world.

“Tony wasn’t lying about you being smart then, huh?” he asked, trying to gloss over his earlier statement. Peter looked up at him again and he raised an eyebrow.

“You wanna nerd a bit?”

*

**Harley:** I have zero impulse control

 **Harley:** It’s official

**Abby:** you talk like that isn’t a known fact

 **Abby:** yikes did you feel up an iron man suit already

 **Abby:** knew you couldn’t keep it in your pants

**Harley:** noooo

 **Harley:** not a suit that is

**Abby:**?????

 **Abby:** what did u do

 **Abby:** you cant just not reply after such a message

**Harley:** I didn’t exactly feel him up

 **Harley:** but

 **Harley:** it’s Spider-Man

 **Harley:** Tony’s personal intern

**Abby:** wait

 **Abby:** is this a list

**Harley:** what?? nooohooo

 **Harley:** theyre the same person

**Abby:** soo you felt up spidey who is also tony’s personal intern

**Harley:** I didn’t feel him up!

 **Harley:** I just…..

 **Harley:** kissed him in greeting?

 **Harley:** ik it sounds stupid

 **Harley:** but

 **Harley:** you didn’t see him

**Abby:** I leave this idiot alone for one (1) day

*

“Yes?”

“Hey, bud! How’s it going?”

“It’s three a.m., Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered instead of a greeting.

“Ah, _so_ sorry, Mr. Parker. Since when exactly do we care about that?” Tony snorted, but then broke off and Peter imagined him stopping dead in his tracks while sauntering through the lab. “Oh, no, wait, I’m supposed to do this adulting thing, right? You should definitely be in bed right now, Peter!”

Peter chuckled. “You’re doing great, Mr. Stark. No, really, it’s just that Harley fell asleep and you called on my phone, and it just blared so loudly and I didn’t want to wake him up. But I went outside now so it’s fine.” Peter fell back against the wall and slid down to the ground, the phone pressed to his ear.

“What were you doing?”

“Well, he was looking around my lab, and then we kind of got to work on some Spider-Man tech and then somehow it was two a.m. and Harley just fell asleep on my table.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else of you both, Pete. Sorry I couldn’t be there. But, you know, maybe it’s a good thing, for you and Harley.”

“Uhuh,” Peter just responded.

It had actually been nice to work with the other boy, though. Peter had been bubbling with anxiety throughout the whole day, especially during his catastrophe of a secret identity preservation, but as soon as he was able to mess around with his suit, he felt calmer somehow, even though Harley—a.k.a. the cause of the day’s agitation—was right across from him. It felt easing to talk about his masked other half with someone who didn’t know it was his _and_ even seemed to be a fan of Spider-Man. Harley had said that he thought the hero was hot, even if that probably was just meant objecti—

“So he knows already?”

“No, he doesn’t know. If you believe it or not, I am totally able to not accidentally reveal my identity to every person I meet!” he retorted.

“If you say so, kid,” Tony huffed out a laugh. “Well, actually I’m calling with bad news. It appears that the husband of an employee in the R&D department has been infected. It would be better if you didn’t go down there anymore.”

“Uhm, Mr. Stark?”

A short pause.

“You were there today, weren’t you?” Tony sighed.

“Maybe?” Peter chuckled nervously, aware of how stressed out his mentor was about the whole thing. “I was just picking up some materials.”

“I can’t—ok, listen here.” There was shuffling on the other end of the line, like Tony was pushing himself into a straighter position, saying _this is important, kid._ “I’m _constantly_ worried about you, you know that, right? This isn’t like being Spider-Man, this is something you really _can’t_ control. And I can’t protect you from it.” There was desperation in the man’s voice as he said that and Peter looked down at his shoes guiltily. He hated that he made Tony worry about him.

“You know what? I’d like it best if you stayed on your floor and Harley stays with us one below you. The fewer the better. Pepper and me, we’re too much of a risk for you. You and Harley haven’t sneezed at each other, right? So he can just move in with us. And you’re safe. I just don’t want that in the end one of you infects the other or—“

“Uhhh, Mr. Stark?” How was he supposed to explain this? _Uh, no, he kissed me so if one of us was we’re now both infected. What? Oh, yeah, he kissed me although we met like a few hours ago. Apparently, that’s what you do in Rose Hill, Tennessee._

“What is it, Peter? I know it’s no fun to stay on your own for so long, but we’re literally one floor—“

“No, Mr. Stark! That’s not—that’s not the problem, it’s just …” _How,_ just _how_ did Peter always manage to get himself into this kind of situations? Only now it wasn’t _really_ his fault, was it? It was Harley who had leaned down and looked at him like—nope, not thinking about this right now. It hadn’t been _that_ way anyway.

“If one of us was infected the other is too, now.”

“What do you mean, kid?”

“That’s—that’s not important.”

_Please don’t ask, please don’t ask._

Tony just sighed. “Alright.”

Peter exhaled.

“You both stay on your own then. It would be pointless to have you stay on your own if you’ve been in contact anyway. I really want you to stay safe, Peter, do you hear that? We’re gonna be back a day later by the way—”

“Wait. You mean, just the two of us?” Peter leaned forward, his elbows shifted onto his knees.

“Is he really that bad?” Tony said. “I thought you got along well?”

“No, he’s not bad, not at all! It’s just—“ he struggled to find the words, “I didn’t expect that.”

“It’s going to be alright. Just don’t ask him about his father and you’ll be fine.” Tony chuckled and Peter wanted to ask what exactly this statement was supposed to accomplish since it made Peter wonder in the first place, but also, he was growing more tired by the second and would be glad to end the call in the near future, without having Tony fuss over snarky comments.

“How about you’re actually getting some sleep now?”

“Only if you go to bed too, Mr. Stark.”

“Uh-uh, I’m the adult here! I don’t have to listen to you! Goodnight, squirt!”

“Goodnight,” Peter said, and his phone darkened again, leaving him to stand alone in the dim hallway.

Peter knew that he should feel utterly upset now – he wasn’t going to be able to spend the time working in the lab with Tony anymore and having Pepper beside him, comforting in a way, as May wasn’t around. But he didn’t really feel all that devastated.

And as he reentered the lab and saw Harley still fast asleep in his chair, his head lying on the table top and a pencil still in his hand, he even felt a soft smile creep onto his face.

Maybe he would end up with a new friend when all of this was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sure sure pete
> 
> I'm still so stunned by how many people read the first chapter of this mess and I really really appreciate all of your love you wouldn't believe it
> 
> also, I'm finally not stuck on the fifth chapter anymore, yay! (theres gonna be a lot of Harley sipping his coffee smugly and Peter freaking out about it) (do whatever you want with that information)


	3. the embodiment of coolness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this turned out a bit angsty, but I kind of like it?

Harley was in a good mood. He had slept relatively well and had been woken up by FRIDAY and when he asked she had told him that Peter (Spider-Man!) wasn’t up yet. As he stepped into the kitchen a cup of coffee was already waiting on him. Harley couldn’t help but think that Stark Tower was probably the best place ever to be quarantined.

He was quite proud of himself that he had survived last night without doing anything completely stupid. (Emphasis on _completely_ , of course.)

It was as if as soon as they got to work in the lab, Peter was at ease in a way, and they clicked instantly. Harley would ask him something and Peter would talk and talk animatedly as if the words never left him. It was a little startling to be honest, usually Harley would always be the one to never shut up (even in certain situations where he definitely should). But he was kind of grateful, as it prevented him from opening his dumb mouth and saying something that he couldn’t take back.

Today, Tony and Pepper would come back, and it would be a lot easier to bring some space between himself and Peter (which Harley was sure was necessary if he wanted to keep himself sane) and also Harley was hoping he would finally be able to meet some of the other Avengers when they came back from their mission.

Lost in thought as he was, FRIDAY obviously didn’t feel the need to inform him of Peter having woken up too. As the boy shuffled into the kitchen and Harley’s head snapped up he realized he had been a bit hasty with his positive notion of this day.

Peter was still wearing his pajama and Harley almost had to look twice, but, yep, it consisted of Hello Kitty pants and a Thor t-shirt. The boy’s hair was disheveled almost as much as Harley’s was on a daily basis and he was rubbing at his eyes sleepily before he smiled at him softly.

That was the very moment Harley knew that the next weeks were going to be a shit show. With him as the headliner.

This somehow felt way too much like a certain earlier situation, and he definitely didn’t want a revival of that so he croaked out a “mornin’,” quickly.

“Good morning.”

He didn’t know why, but it was also in that very moment that Harley realized he had _not_ fallen asleep in his room last night, but in the lab. He still remembered how his eyes had been screaming at him to just please close them already while he was working on a sketch and his head seemed to drop further down by the second. Harley had never been a sleepwalker, and besides, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have even found his room in the enormity that was the penthouse floor, which left him with only one possible explanation.

“Did you—bring me to bed last night?” he asked, running his hand through his hair nervously.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter said standing at the counter, his back turned on Harley as he made himself something to drink. “I know from experience that falling asleep in that position isn’t worth the aching afterwards.”

Harley narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what to say. Did Peter realize that a normal human being wasn’t really able to just pick up someone his body type? Last night Peter had told him about Spider-Man’s enhanced senses and strength so it really wasn’t too far-fetched to think that Harley would be able to connect those dots. Though, he had to admit he was a little sad he had been unconscious when it happened.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

“You’re welcome.”

He quickly pushed the image in his head aside as Peter sat down across from him at the counter and stirred his cup. “Uh, Mr. Stark called me last night.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said … he said we should quarantine separately from them,” Peter said, still looking at the cup before him. “Pepper, Morgan and Tony are going to stay on the floor below us and we’re supposed to stay here.” Peter lifted his head and glanced up at him, expectancy in his eyes.

It seemed like the boy had a tendency to making Harley speechless. Harley hadn’t decided yet whether he liked that special talent or not. Well. The way things were going he would have a lot of time to figure that out.

Finally, his mouth was able to form some words. “And. Why, exactly?” Not much, but really, what would you expect?

“Um, Tony actually wanted to have you stay with them, but we didn’t really, y’know, follow the six-feet-apart-rule, so that would be kind of pointless.” Peter pressed his lips together and Harley had to refrain himself from staring down at them at Peter’s implication.

“Oh.” Kill him now. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

“Are you …” Peter began, the steam from his cup twining around his face. “Are you mad?”

Harley’s thoughts contemplating what would be the most graceful way to die right then and there stuttered to a halt. “What? Mad? Why would I be mad? It’s not like it’s your fault.” Nope, it was solely his fault that Peter was now imprisoned with him here. His stupid mouth’s fault. (He had been insulting his mouth quite a lot these last twenty hours.)

Peter shrugged. “Mr. Stark is just a bit careful with these things.” He smiled at him then, “I guess we’ll have a lot of time to work in the lab from now on,” he said, and turned around to one of the cupboards and Harley felt himself relax a bit again. “So we should definitely do something else to start with,” he declared, while dunking an impressive amount of cornflakes into a bowl.

Oh, Harley would have a lot of ideas as to what to do. “What’s on your mind?”

*

“I gotta admit, when you said you had a plan of how to fill this day, I thought of somethin’ more creative. Something that involves a little more—y’know, actually _doing_ something.”

“We _are_ doing something. This is education.”

“I should’ve just said I loved Star Wars and we would’ve been fine, huh?” Harley muttered, his words muffled by the pillow he was pressing his face into.

“Possibly.”

When he had suggested to do a movie marathon Harley let it slip out that he had never watched the entire Star Wars saga and Peter declared he wasn’t physically able to spend that much time with someone who hadn’t watched every movie at least once.

“I’m tired.”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

“Yoda would want me to sleep.”

Peter was pretty sure Harley didn’t even know what he was talking about at that point. It was four a.m. – this time of pulling an all-nighter where you’re babbling pointless stuff and considering to fall asleep and never awake again.

But Peter was stubborn. This was one of the few things he wanted to achieve in life – not the ones like earning money and finding love – no, the real ones, like making it 360 degrees around the top bar of a swing set, or owning a house with secret passages, _or_ doing a complete Star Wars marathon. He’d had a try at it with Ned two years ago but both of them had fallen asleep during the seventh one, and May had stopped the movie before they could fight themselves back into consciousness again.

Harley and him had now made it to their sixth movie and Peter was once more losing his confidence in conquering this nine-headed battle partner.

“We could’ve built our own light sabers,” Harley said, his head still buried in the pillow.

“I tried. Didn’t work.”

“Well, you didn’t let _me_ try it.”

“You just don’t want to watch anymore.”

“ _Exactly._ ” 

“The movie’s over in a few minutes anyway.”

Harley raised his head and glanced at him hopefully. “And how many are still missing?”

Peter pursed his lips and muttered, “Six?”

Harley let out a frustrated groan, and if Peter wouldn’t have left a bit of perseverance inside of him, he would have joined in. “I don’t even know why I’m still awake,” Harley grumbled. “My sister would kick my ass if she were here.”

Peter rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbow to look at the boy on the couch next to him curiously. “Why would she do that?”

Harley grinned, his eyes fixed on the TV now. “I used to work in my workshop the entire night when I was like, fourteen? I thought sleep wasn’t all that important.” He threw Peter a meaningful look and continued, “Once, I burst into our room in the middle of the night to ask her for a hair band because I had run out of things to fixate the barrel of my potato-gun with—“ Peter snorted and Harley glared at him, “—and Abby decided I needed at least five hours of sleep a night to function reasonably human.”

“’Reasonably human’,” Peter repeated chuckling slightly, “I like that. Where is she right now?” he asked then. “Mr. Stark only told me nobody of your family was home and that’s why you needed to stay here.”

The grin slipped off of Harley’s face and Peter wanted to apologize for asking so bluntly, but then he began to speak. “She’s been working at an animal shelter an hour from Rose Hill last summer. The people who run it called her last week to ask whether she’d be able to work there as personnel support ‘til everything’s normal again. They gave her a room and pay her a bit and everything, but I think Abby would’ve said yes no matter what anyways.”

Peter smiled. “She sounds great.”

“She is.” Harley turned on the couch to face the ceiling. He was somewhere several hundred miles away in that moment, Peter could tell.

It wasn’t like he knew anything about the boy next to him really, but he had a feeling Harley usually didn’t talk that freely about topics like this, not when he could filter his thoughts before speaking. Peter didn’t want to take advantage of the boy’s dizzy state, really, it was just that he felt like this wasn’t an opportunity that occurred all that often, and he kind of wanted to know more about his family.

“And your mom?”

“She works at a grocery store. That’s why she called Tony. Didn’t want me to be at risk because of her job by staying with her. I don’t really get why staying in New York makes her feel better about my safety, but whatever.”

Peter wanted to ask about Harley’s father, but then he remembered what Tony had said and four a.m. on their first day of quarantine maybe wasn’t the best time to open Pandora’s box, no matter—or rather _especially_ seeing how sleep-deprived the other boy was, so he settled back into the cushions.

Their heads were next to each other, bodies sprawled out into opposite directions on the couch. They had carried blankets and pillows into the living room after they’d had dinner (takeout again) and those were now spread all around them. The room was eerily quiet, the credits of the movie playing in the background unregarded.

And Peter decided it would be unfair to make the other boy talk about his worries while he didn’t tell him anything in return.

“That’s why I’m here too. I mean, my aunt’s a nurse, so she needed me to stay somewhere else and Mr. Stark and Pepper offered I could stay here for the time being.”

Harley raised his head at that and faced Peter, a concerned look on his face. “She’s a nurse?”

“Yeah. She’s fine though.” Peter felt his throat close up as he confirmed it. It had been like that every time he called May during the last days and whenever she was brought up in a conversation. Peter had wanted to be selfish so badly. He had wanted May to stay with him, to call the hospital and say she wouldn’t come. But he didn’t ask and May didn’t stay and Peter knew it was the right thing to do – just like he was supposed to be out there right now too, with Tony and the others, helping people. But he wasn’t allowed to.

“I’m sorry,” Harley said softly, or maybe it was just the tiredness in his voice, but he seemed earnest, like he really meant what he said, and understood what was going on inside of him right now.

“And what about you? Are _you_ okay?”

The question threw Peter off a bit.

“Yeah, I am. I mean, I should be? It’s not like _I_ am out there risking my life. I’m just—afraid. That maybe she won’t—“ His breath hitched in his throat and he stopped, unable to end the sentence having already thought what it would comprise.

“It’s always been _me she_ was worrying about, not the other way around. It’s not right like this,” his words weren’t more than a whisper now and he hated how pathetic he must sound. Harley had to worry about two of his loved ones and here he was, whining about his brave aunt like she was a damsel in distress.

“She’s going to be alright,” Harley said, determination clear in his voice. “They all will be. The best we can do for them is take care of ourselves.”

They lay there in the gloom room neither of them saying a word exactly five seconds before Harley sighed, “Wow, how did we manage to screw up the mood that badly?”

And before Peter had definitely not felt like he’d be able to, but then he huffed out a laugh and propped himself up onto his elbows again. “No idea. How about I start the next movie?”

“How about I throw you out the window,” Harley flouted. “I’m gonna sleep now,” he added and turned over as if to validate his statement.

“We’re not even going back to our rooms?”

“Too tired. And shush, I’m sleeping.” Harley closed his eyes resolutely and Peter settled back into the couch, accepting his defeat. But this surely wasn’t the last time he would try, he promised himself.

“G’night, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Harley.”

FRIDAY turned out the lights around them and not a minute later he could hear soft snoring coming from the boy next to him. He turned his head a bit and looked at Harley, who was frowning slightly in his sleep.

Peter wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay again soon, but he knew both of them didn’t know _anything_ about what was going to happen and Harley was obviously just trying to make them feel better about that fact. He was missing his family just as much as Peter missed May, and had to worry twice.

And Peter decided he was going to do something about that.

*

**Peter:** I love you aunt may

 **Peter:** and I really miss you and I wish you were here

 **Peter:** but I want you to know that I really really appreciate what you’re doing

**May:** I know honey. And I know this is hard for you, but I promise I will take care of myself. I’m going to be just fine and then I can give you a big big hug and won’t let you go

**Peter:** :)

**May:** How are you guys doing? Did you already meet this boy Tony wanted to introduce you to?

**Peter:** yes, I did actually

 **Peter:** he’s really cool

 **Peter:** btw tony decided it would be better if we quarantined separately

**May:** Elaborate please

**Peter:** he doesn’t want me to be in any danger so he said him and pepper and morgan would stay away from me

 **Peter:** cause we don’t know how the virus could react with the enhancement and all

 **Peter:** but harley is staying with me so its fine

**May:** Harley is the kid then? Does that mean you’ve already made friends with him, that’s great!

 **May:** You were so nervous about meeting him

**Peter:** no I wasn’t

**May:** You called me to ask whether people from Tennessee really all loved country music and whether it would be good to ‘listen to some in preparation’

**Peter:** I am the embodiment of coolness

**May:** Sure you are sweetie

**Peter:** I came out here to have a good time and honestly im feeling so attacked rn

**May:** I won’t even ask.

 **May:** I love and miss you too honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update's gonna be faster, I PROMISE


	4. pain-in-the-ass-potential

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update's gonna be faster they said.  
> I PROMISE they said.
> 
> Anyways, I am now here to treat you to a 4k chapter which contains an idea I had some weeks ago and made me grin like a maniac whenever I thought of it to make up for that  
> 

Harley woke up to the smell of bacon.

There was something about this circumstance that made him think of staying at a hotel, even though he was pretty sure bacon wasn’t in the usual scent catalog of one. Not that he had much experience. Still, it sure felt quite luxury.

The salty (and slightly burnt, but he wouldn’t be fussy about this) smell made him rose to his feet much faster than he usually even opened his eyes in the morning. Still dressed in his movie-marathon gear consisting of sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt and the pair of woolen socks his mother had made him pack, he sauntered over to the kitchen, following the appetizing scent like a cartoon character floating along an odor billow towards its source.

The source – a.k.a. the open kitchen right next to the living room area – looked as if a hurricane had ravaged through it. In the midst of used pots, pans and numerous other kitchen utensils stood Peter, sporting a flowery apron and a dripping whisk in hand. He was animatedly talking to someone and Harley needed a second to get over his bewilderment and recognize his mysterious dialogue partner as the laptop on the counter. Or, rather the person on the other end of the video call.

“Abby?!”

Peter and _his sister on the display_ both winced at his exclamation.

Abby recovered first. “Oh, hi, Harls! Nice to see ya. Took you long enough.”

Harley just stared at her perplexed. “What.”

“As eloquent as ever,” Abby said, and he saw Peter barely keeping in a laugh.

_What the fuck was going on?_

“I thought it would be nice if Abby could join us for breakfast,” Peter smiled at him, and Harley still didn’t really get how these two people came to know each other, before an indistinct memory crept up on him. _Oh._ Last night.

Sleep-deprivation and Harley Keener truly weren’t the bestest of friends. He didn’t even want to know what exactly he had told the other boy in his last night’s state, but it was undeniable that he must have whined about missing his sister so much that Peter decided to arrange this, whatever _this_ was.

It wasn’t like he didn’t miss Abby. He just had a really bad feeling about his sister being anywhere close to his quarantine partner. Especially since he had messaged her about the whole greeting incident. But she wouldn’t—

“You could’ve at least dressed up a bit for this occasion,” Abby mocked, scornfully eyeing him up. “You look like shit, Harls.”

_Unless_ … No, no, she wouldn’t.

“Well, _I_ wasn’t informed about this _occasion_ ,” he glared at her, “You don’t look all that fancy yourself, _Abs_.” If she was gonna throw around nicknames he would draw level.

“What?!” Abby exclaimed scandalized, sitting up in her chair to bring her upper body closer to the camera, so that her ratty pink pajama top with unicorn print was being displayed amply on the laptop. “This is _fashion_ , Harley, you wouldn’t understand. Just look at Peter’s pants, he gets it.”

They looked over at Peter, whose eyes were jumping from one to the other, as if observing their sibling-dynamic in a tennis match.

“Besides,” Harley said, going back to defend his appearance, “I was forced to watch _six two hours long_ movies yesterday. That’s enough of a warrant to look like this.”

“Well, Peter doesn’t look like shit,” Abby smirked.

“Thanks?” Peter frowned, unsure whether he could take that statement as a compliment.

“Anyways, I gotta show you something!” Abby exclaimed suddenly, and then proceeded to bring out her phone and show them snaps of a litter of puppies she was taking care of at the moment for the next minutes. Several times Peter uttered adorable little sighs or “aww”s at the pictures and Harley had a feeling Abby knew exactly what she was doing.

When Abby was done she suggested they’d actually eat breakfast now, and while she left to grab something from her kitchen, Peter offered Harley a pan with scrambled egg.

“Did you make all of this by yourself?” He still couldn’t really believe that Peter had made them an entire breakfast, just like that.

“Yeah. I thought we both could need some cheering up.” Harley smiled abashedly. “And besides, now is obviously the perfect time to improve my cooking skills.” Peter smiled back at him and Harley helped himself to a portion as Abby slid into her chair again.

Peter acted like he was focused on the plate in front of him, but Harley didn’t miss the way his eyes nervously twitched into his direction. Harley grabbed his fork and took a bite of the scrambled egg. He bit down on it and …

… had to refrain himself from screwing up his face.

It was awful. Oh god, it was awful. There was way too much salt in there and something pungent Harley couldn’t place, stinging on the inside of his cheeks.

Peter was still looking at him and he quickly started to chew again and gulped down the bite. There was no way he would tell the boy that his self-made breakfast tasted—like _that._ How was it _possible_ to mess up scrambled egg _so_ _incredibly bad_?

“It’s delicious, Peter,” he forced out.

Peter smiled, and Harley smiled right back at him. “That’s—That’s great,” he answered. “You know, my aunt, she’s really bad at cooking and stuff and basically always sets the kitchen on fire when she tries to boil noodles. We mostly go out to eat.”

There was a fond look on his face, and honestly, Harley would eat everything Peter made for him if it meant keeping that look right there.

“So, it’s really cool it’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.” Harley really hoped Peter wasn’t going to eat anything of the food he had made, or Harley’s white lie would be exposed.

Only then he noticed the way Abbie was staring at the two of them. _Oh no._ He locked eyes with her and saw a mischievous smirk making its way onto her face. He narrowed his eyes at her. She wouldn’t, would she? Maybe he could throw her off if he just tried again?

Harley took another bite and _oh man_ , was that a freaking eggshell? Abbie snorted as she watched him gulp the food down, a strained expression on his face. Fortunately, Peter wasn’t looking at him right then.

But then he saw that Abby inhaled to speak, “Peter?” she sang out and before Harley could think better of it, or think anything at all, he slammed the laptop shut.

Peter stared at the device in bewilderment and then up at Harley, “What—“

Harley blinked.

“She was done,” he said. “She just said bye.”

“She—What?”

Harley just nodded resolutely and cast his eyes down to his plate, picking at the egg busily.

He saw Peter shake his head perplexedly from the corner of his eye, “Your relationship is weird.”

*

Harley told himself he could get used to the taste, but he knew it was a lie and his taste buds knew it too. He kept on forcing down his portion while his phone kept on buzzing in his pants pocket. He had checked once to see it was Abby video calling him and decided it would be best to just ignore it.

Peter and him then spent the next hours in the lab, wanting to enjoy their last day before online classes started again working on tech. Peter showed Harley a hologram table Tony and him used to develop his— _excuse me._ _Spider-Man’s_ suit and web combinations.

On command a holographic surface would flare up and Peter demonstrated how he just had to move his arms above it and the parts visualized around them. He could select different formulas and materials and then let FRIDAY run tests and simulations.

After showing Harley everything, Peter explained he had some projects he needed to work on, but that he could use the table if he wanted.

Harley felt a bit as if he was being dropped off at a playground so the adult could go working, but also he didn’t really care, because this this thing was _incredible_ and he wanted to soak up everything in any way science-related he could get his fingers on.

Apart from that, Harley had also decided it would be best if he stayed in the other boy’s proximity as little as possible. Hell, he was going to spend the rest of quarantine with him, and he had no idea how long exactly that would be. He would _not_ survive to spend that much time with a boy that had rejected him, no way. He didn’t even want to _imagine_ the weirdness that would ensue if he made a move, Peter being grossed out and not wanting to be anywhere near him.

He would just. Put his stupid feelings into a bucket and bury it deep deep down in his stupid mind. (It would have to be a big bucket though.) (He had just watched Peter randomly break out into humming the Baby Shark song while he tested a probably lethal mini-missile he just built before realizing that he wasn’t alone in his lab and breaking off abruptly.)

So yeah, it was going great.

But it was the right decision, he was sure of it, even if certainly not the easiest one.

Harley snapped out of his thoughts as The Voice from Above spoke up out of nowhere again. “Incoming call from Boss.”

“Thanks FRIDAY! Accept,” Peter said as he raised his head at the ceiling to respond.

“Hey kiddo,” Tony’s voice chimed through the room. “How are you doing?”

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” Peter responded brightly, “Uh, Harley’s here, too,” he then rushed to add, probably not wanting Tony to spill anything.

Might be too late for that.

“Hiya, old man!”

Harley had called the man probably a thousand times in his life, but this time it felt different, more meaningful somehow. Because he was here, in New York City, and not because he had given up the waiting and just visited the Tower himself, but because Tony actually wanted him to be there.

He felt Peter’s gaze on him, probably staring at him in bewilderment at his bold greeting with these wide-blown doe-like brown eyes of his.

_The bucket, Harley, remember. The. Bucket._

A smirk slipped onto his face and Peter promptly flushed up and resorted to playing at the hem of his sleeve.

As he said, it was going great.

“Keener,” Tony greeted back unenthusiastically, but Harley could clearly hear amusement in the man’s voice. “Didn’t think to call me while you’re staying at my house?”

“Well, you didn’t call either. And I’m your guest so that’s kinda your job.” Harley crossed his arms across his chest, and he was kind of sad he didn’t get to see the pissed off stink-eye Tony would definitely be giving him in person right now.

“Don’t make me regret letting you stay here.”

“Oh, I would never.”

Tony heaved a suffering sigh.

“D’you think I’ll be a bad influence for your intern, Tony?” Harley mocked, but the man just huffed out a laugh in response.

“There’s not much you could make worse, really. Peter’s a pain in the ass all by himself.”

“Oh, really?” Harley frowned, “I’ve been working so hard to be the biggest pain in the ass ever and now you just dethrone me?”

“I’m still right here, you know?” Peter stated reproachfully, but a smile was tugging at his lips, and Harley wondered what the boy was thinking of in that moment. He kind of wanted to know about everything that had led to Tony describing him as a pain in the ass.

(Maybe he needed a water spray flask, like those you use on cats when they do something they shouldn’t be doing.) (He would just tell FRIDAY to remind him to spray water at himself as soon as he stared at Peter a bit too long.)

Tony started to speak again, “Well, since no one of you seems to care enough to ask: The mission went fine and we’re all okay.”

“Oh, right, Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry!” Peter apologized quickly. “Are you on your way back?”

Pain in the ass, sure.

“Yep, we’re going to be back in a few hours.”

“Can’t wait for it.”

“Ah, fuck off, Keener,” Tony muttered and promptly a female voice exclaimed, “Tony!” indignantly in the background.

There was a brief pause, during which Tony was probably processing being scolded by his wife, and then he gasped in faux exasperation.

“Keener, how dare you say something like this!” he called out, “You cannot use vocabulary like that in this household!” Tony’s voice was a bit muffled then, like he was turning away from his phone, “He still has to learn a lot, doesn’t he, Pep—”

Pepper cut him off by speaking up herself, “Don’t listen to him, Harley. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m great, it’s just that your husband has some attention-issues.”

“Oh, that I do know,” Pepper sighed and Tony grumbled.

“If you’re now ready with making fun of me, I actually had a reason to call you brats.”

There was a smack and a huff, and Harley had to grin at the image of Pepper slapping Tony with a random paper or something that popped up in his head at that.

“Alright, alright, _kids_ , I just wanted to talk to Peter for a second.”

Harley took that as his cue to leave them alone and quickly said goodbye to Pepper, ignoring Tony and his muttering about how impolite it was to ignore his host.

As he was hunched over the magical console again, Harley found himself staring over at Peter. He was leaning on his desk, writing something down quickly and simultaneously talking to Tony. He seemed casual, relaxed, used to this kind of situation.

And despite himself he didn’t feel this weird feeling swelling up inside of him. He didn’t feel jealous at all. Not like Peter was taking up a space in Tony’s life that would’ve been meant to be his. Because it was just Peter.

*

Harley and his sister used to love watching cartoons.

When he was just seven and Abby was five, his mother was still working at a bowling alley in Rose Hill. (Or well. _The_ bowling alley of Rose Hill, it wasn’t like there were more than one.) Might sound sad, and really, it kind of was, but she was earning good money there. Her boss there was kind, and sometimes let their family eat for free at the alley-own restaurant, but most of the time the siblings stayed home when their mom was working until late in the evenings. They weren’t alone though – Ms. Young from three houses down the street, whose name was as fallacious as her teeth were fake, was babysitting them, sitting in the big old armchair in the living room and doing crossword puzzles continuously.

Harley didn’t like Ms. Young – he didn’t like old people in general though, so it wasn’t really personal – but she let them watch TV for as long as they wanted and didn’t tell on them when they would race back to their room as soon as they heard their mom’s keys clacking at the front door.

Harley’s favorite cartoon was Scooby-Doo. Needless to say, it consequently became the series Abby disliked the most, as it is a sibling’s duty, and she would always whine about how she wanted to watch something else when it came on. Ms. Young, who probably had some gentleman-educational plans in mind, wasn’t reluctant to tell him to “be nice to your sister” all the time, which apparently meant letting Abby give him a haughty smirk and giving her the remote in exchange.

Harley would like to think he’d become a decent gentleman (most of the time at least), but he could’ve gladly done without the old woman’s educational efforts.

He didn’t even know why, but as he fell back onto the enormous couch in Tony Stark’s living room about ten years later and The Voice from Above asked what he, _Mr. Keener_ , would like to watch, the blue-green van popped up in his head and before he could think twice, he’d asked if she could put on Scooby Doo. For old times’ sake, he guessed.

As the intro song began to play he found himself humming along, unbelievably grateful not to have old-people odor mixed with lazy-afternoon-small-town reek up his nose.

For just a second, Harley wondered what Ms. Young would think of him if she were able to see him right now. If she could see who the tiny boy had become that had sat in front of the screen enthralled as the same song played out.

Just in that moment, Peter plopped down next to him, curiously examining the characters on the screen, before looking back at Harley with the same look, accompanied by a smile on his lips.

And he quickly shut Ms. Young and her opinions out of his mind. He didn’t care what she would think of him.

“You done?”

“Yup,” Peter just replied, and Harley was thankful he didn’t seem to be about to question his entertainment choice.

The episode continued and they sat and watched, until Harley spoke up again.

“I wish classes weren’t starting again.”

Peter glanced over at him and shook his head slightly, “I think we’ll soon be so bored that we’re glad we have them.”

“I don’t think so,” Harley frowned and tilted his head. “And I’m sure we’ll find some things to do to kill the time.”

“Maybe I can ask Doctor Strange to speed up the time a bit.”

Harley whipped his head around at the boy, “You know Doctor Strange?”

“Uh,” Peter ducked his head, realizing his mistake. “No, that was—that was just a joke.”

Harley nodded and looked back at the screen, barely keeping himself from breaking into a grin, while Peter seemed to recover from his near-death experience beside him.

A few minutes into watching the cartoon, he piped up again.

“I could try to make pancakes tomorrow if you’d like.”

Harley froze. _Oh no._

He hadn’t thought of the consequences this morning, that much was clear. He stared at the screen with wide eyes, just as Fred lifted the mask off of the villain’s head.

Of all the breakfast dishes there were in the world he had to go for pancakes? Harley could already taste the floury dough on his tongue, the gooey mixture sticking on the inside of his cheeks. He gulped.

“Sure, darlin’,” he bit out, “lookin’ forward to it.”

He would probably never be able to eat pancakes again. And what was even worse was the fact that it was perfectly possible that Peter would carry on trying to “improve his baking skills” throughout their time imprisoned together. What had he gotten himself into?

Peter snorted next to him.

What.

Harley turned towards him on the couch and saw the boy barely holding in his laughter.

He frowned in confusion and narrowed his eyes at him – there was something he was missing, that was for sure.

His brain needed a few moments to catch up with the foreboding bubbling in his chest and suddenly he knew what was going on.

“You didn’t eat anything.”

Peter bit down on his bottom lip, but the corners of his mouth still formed into a grin. “No, I didn’t.”

“You knew it tasted awful.”

_“Yes.”_ Now, Peter threw his head back with laughter.

“You watched me pretend to like it even though you knew it was horrible.”

_“Yes,”_ he gasped out.

“You’re dead.”

And then they were on their feet, and Peter was still cackling with laughter as he rushed through the hallway, Harley close on his heels. He wasn’t sure yet what he would do when he’d catch up to Peter, but suddenly it was too late to think that through, because Peter slipped on the sleek floor and crashed to the ground and Harley was too staggered by this turn of events to stop quickly enough, so that he stumbled right into the boy on the floor and landed next to him.

Peter was on his feet again before Harley could as much as make the conscious decision to close his mouth from when he had let out a squeal as he fell. (Harley didn’t dare to believe he’d get to see the Spider-powers in action this soon, yet, here he was.) (Lying on the floor, that’s what he was.)

So Harley jumped back to his feet and took off after the hero, only to find him in the lab they had just left to relax from their long day working, standing behind one of the workbenches.

He stepped closer and glared at Peter, rounding the bench between them, but the boy mirrored his movements so that the distance stayed the same. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with this. He stopped walking and panted while Peter just doubled over with laughter as he saw that Harley had given up.

“You made me act like I enjoyed this absolute crap!” he accused.

“I didn’t make you do anything!” Peter defended himself. “I thought you would just choke on the food a bit! I didn’t expect you to lie about it!” he added between laughs.

He had a point there. But still.

“You asked if I’d like a _second serving_!”

Peter almost fell over with how much he was giggling, and if Harley wasn’t so scandalized he’d sure find it very endearing. Now though, he saw his chance and took off around the table again, but again Peter was too fast for him and vanished from the lab in no time.

He _did_ see some pain-in-the-ass-potential now.

As Harley entered the hallway he could only see Peter disappear into his room and when he arrived there the door was locked. He could still hear Peter’s laughter on the other side of it.

Oh, he was going to pay for this.

He even missed the outro because of him.

*

**Abby: missed video call**

**Abby: missed video call**

**Abby:** pick up i wanna see u choke on the food again

**Abby:** ok then im just gonna laugh at you here

 **Abby:** aHhAaHHAHAhAhAAhaaAAhahAhahaH

 **Abby:** HAhAhAhaAAhAhAaHahh

 **Abby:** AhAHAHAhAHhahahAHAhHAhahA

**Abby:** ok this is getting boring

**Abby:** did he tell u already

**Harley:** he knew it tasted awful

 **Harley:** and he watched me pretend to like it

 **Harley:** can you believe that

**Abby:** whaaaaat

**Harley:** ……………….

 **Harley:** you knew didnt you

**Abby:** whaaaaaat

**Harley:** youre an asshole

**Abby:** no language like that in this household young man

 **Abby:** it was his idea btw

 **Abby:** I was just invited along

**Harley:** still??

 **Harley:** youre my sister!

 **Harley:** youre not supposed to team up against me!

**Abby:** look how the turntables

*

**Peter:** I did it!!!!

 **Peter:** he's really mad

 **Peter:** this was the best idea I ever had

**Ned:** im glad im not in your place rn

**Peter:** wdym

**MJ:** I feel like you haven't thought this through to the end, Peter.

*

**Harley:** tony I need your help

**Tony:** Why do I have a bad feeling about this?


	5. half-time asshole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what's even more exhausting than online classes? going to school half a day and then still having online classes back at home
> 
> okay I'm done with sulking now  
> enjoy!

As Harley entered the kitchen the next morning, Peter was sitting there with a mug in his hands, a grin plastered onto his face. He was going to relish the aftermath of his prank, even if that meant having to run away from one angry southern boy again. Last night he hadn’t dared to go out of his room again, afraid Harley might lurk in some corner and attack by throwing food at him or something.

But as Harley came into Peter’s view at 9 a.m., he not only didn’t scowl at his smirk, no, he did something even weirder: Harley smiled back kindly, and the grin disappeared off of Peters face, at once being replaced by a frown.

_What the hell?_ He had prepared himself for devilish glares and angry accusations, or at least snarky comments. But this?

He followed Harley with his gaze as he walked over to the counter and grabbed his coffee calmly. As Harley sat down across from him he was still staring at him while Harley kept on ignoring his fixed eyes, his lips still forming a composed smile.

This was tremendously unsettling, to say the least.

*

Harley sipped on his coffee.

Peter stared at him.

Harley smiled again.

Peter stared.

Harley said, “What’s going on in this pretty head of yours?”

“What are you planning?”

“Planning? What should I be planning?”

Peter narrowed his eyes.

Harley sipped on his coffee again.

*

Peter still didn’t know what exactly had gotten into him that morning. It was one of these ideas you have and you’re just so caught up in it that you don’t question it for one second. Peter had a lot of these on a daily basis.

He had just done it – asked FRIDAY for Abby’s number, gotten some ingredients out of the cupboards and off he went.

Now Peter was … a bit wary of his idea. Or rather, wary of the aftermath. He had a bad feeling about this – he didn’t know Harley good enough to know how far he would go to get his revenge, and he also didn’t know what his prank-style was like. Was he more of the subtle type, of replacing every photo in the apartment with this photo of Nicolas Cage, or the aggressive type, that ended with glitter being literally _everywhere_ on your body?

What Peter _did_ know though, was that he was growing more nervous with every minute that passed – he felt like the clock to his impending doom was ticking by in the background throughout the whole day.

The worst thing about it all was the fact that Peter's senses seemed to have left early when Harley arrived at the Tower, and hadn’t decided to come back in for work since then. The Tower had always been a place where they had seemed toned down a bit, not in full disposition, just like they were in his apartment, but he hadn’t felt as vulnerable as he had during the last days ever at the building. It must have something to do with quarantine.

He swore he could see Harley smirking to himself as Peter winced in surprise when he let materials fall onto his work surface clattering. And when Peter walked by his room as he went to get himself a snack in the kitchen, Harley was sitting on his bed and slammed his laptop shut as he saw Peter in the hallway.

And Peter had only made it to noon now.

Not to be conspiratorial, but like, he wasn’t being unsuspicious. And Peter wasn’t even known for being very observant, or at least, that was what his friends told him all the time.

And since his friends also kept on telling him he would be totally lost without them, he decided he might as well take their advice voluntarily for once.

“And why did you play a prank on him in the first place?”

“For fun, Ned.”

“And you didn’t think he would want a revenge,” Ned gave him a blank look, not comprehending why Peter was unprepared for standing on the receiving end now.

“I—I didn’t think that far.”

MJ huffed out a small laugh. It was the first input she had given for the entire video call, and yet her face was still hidden behind a book directly in front of the camera.

He would say, up until now the idea to conspire in his friends was going suboptimal, considering there had been a considerably larger amount of skeptically narrowed eyes in the conversation than any remotely helpful advice.

“It won’t be that bad, right? I’m worrying so much about nothing, right?”

“Dunno, Peter, I don’t know the guy. And I think I’d also be pretty mad if you made me eat your food,” Ned muttered, his mouth twisting as if he was tasting it by just thinking about it.

“Oh c’mon,” Peter tilted his head to the side, “I messed it up on purpose. My food isn’t _that_ bad.”

“It is.”

“ _Thanks_ , MJ.”

Ned snickered.

“In case you’re now ready with making fun of me, I actually called you so you would help me out. BUT, since you don’t seem to want to do that,” he lifted his chin and put on a determined look, “I will have to go through this alone.” Ned snickered again, but Peter chose to ignore him. “I’m prepared for everything he could do. I’m composed,” he declared. “I’m ready to face whatever prank Harley has thought up for me.”

The next second, Peter jumped about a foot in the air as Harley plopped down onto the couch next to him.

“What are you doing?!”

This time, even MJ was laughing. She even pulled her book down to make sure he saw it. How kind of her.

“Why, I just wanted to say hello to your friends,” Harley sang out, taking in the screen before him innocently. Peter narrowed his eyes at him once again. He was definitely plotting.

“Hi!” Ned waved into the camera, “I’m Ned!”

Harley shot him a smile. “I’m Harley!”

“Oh, we know who you are,” MJ glared at the camera. Whether it was directed at Harley or him, he couldn’t tell. But considering earlier records it would have to be him, even though there were a lot more reasons to glare at the other boy, if Peter had to decide in that moment. Maybe he had rambled a bit too much about him to his friends.

But whatever it was, Peter glared right back at her – he really didn’t need Harley to know that he had been so stressed out that he’d talked to his friends about him.

“Oh, really?” Harley glanced at him from the side of his eye and Peter kept his gaze trained on his friends resolutely. “You must be Michelle then,” Harley said, turning back to the screen.

“Peter already told you about us?” Ned asked curiously.

“Yeah, he told me what amazing best friends he has and that he loves you both so much,” Harley declared, throwing Peter a sly look, and Ned “awwww”ed in response, while MJ hid her face behind her book again.

Bringing those two parties together wasn’t a good thing, it really wasn’t.

Harley leaned over to Peter a bit and he hated to admit it, but he winced on reflex and Harley bit back a smirk, but then composed himself again, “Is she—is she reading right now?”

Peter shrugged, but then MJ spoke up herself.

“Keener.”

Maybe it was a bit childish, but Peter was satisfied as he felt Harley tense up beside him at the bossy order, glad to see him suffer a bit too after the agitation he’d had to endure due to him. “Give me your phone number.”

Harley blinked. “Okay.”

He got his phone out of his pocket and told her the numbers and then looked at Peter for a second questioningly, the tension between them momentarily forgotten, to which Peter just shrugged in response.

Now, MJ was typing fast on her phone and not a minute later, Harley’s phone buzzed with a new message. He took it up in his hands and read the message. He gulped.

“MJ?”

Harley was writing back really quickly now, rushing to answer whatever MJ had let loose on him. Peter tried to catch sight of the display, but Harley tilted the phone as soon as he noticed Peter moving next to him.

“MJ, what are you doing?”

She just ignored Peter’s _slightly_ concerned question, her eyes trained on the phone in her hands, that now buzzed with a message too. When she had finished reading it, she looked up at them again, a dry, but somehow satisfied expression on her face.

“You can call me MJ,” she declared.

Peter froze and stared at her with wide eyes. _What the hell?_

Ned was reacting the same way, while Harley just grinned at her alleviated.

“Wha—MJ?” Peter struggled to find the words, “it took us _months_ to get to call you MJ and now …” he gesticulated to Harley, who now had a smug grin on his face.

MJ just shrugged noncommittally, apparently not deeming an exclamation necessary at that point.

Peter was dying to know what had they messaged about.

He shook his head. “I’ll call Shuri, she’s gonna flip.”

“You’re forgetting that Shuri also got to call her MJ the first day you introduced them,” Ned tossed in, “Maybe it’s just us, dude.”

“Wait what.” Harley stared at them in bewilderment. “Shuri, as in princess Shuri of Wakanda?”

“Yup, that one. She’s MJ’s girlfriend.”

Harley’s jaw dropped and his eyes bulged, “Really?”

MJ just gave a lopsided grin, but there was pride in her expression. There weren’t a lot of people who knew about their relationship and Peter could see how excited she was about getting to confirm it to someone new. Even if “excited” wasn’t really something that MJ managed to show very well.

“Woah.”

Before Harley could get the idea to ask about exactly how Peter came to introduce the girls in the first place (the least he knew about his involvement with superhero pals the better) he clapped his hands together, “Well, you’ve now met my friends, and apparently, they won’t help me with—my problem, so, uh, bye!” He waved at the camera.

MJ huffed at them, “Bye, losers.” and Ned pouted, “Bye!” and Peter ended the call.

What he hadn’t thought about before was the fact that he was now alone again with Harley, and that setting had proven itself to be pretty agonizing during the last hours. But then, maybe Harley was going to let him have some peace now. He hadn’t exactly given Peter any reason to worry anymore during the video call.

He glanced at Harley cautiously who was now tapping away on his phone.

Maybe he was innocent. Maybe Peter was worrying for nothing, and Harley had just decided to forgive him for making him eat—

His phone rang and Peter jumped again.

Harley looked up and smiled again, but he could tell it was supposed to be a smirk, mantled by his powers of seeming completely harmless. That much for forgiveness.

“Don’t you wanna get that?”

Peter thought if he kept on narrowing his eyes as much as he was doing it this day, he might as well leave them closed. Yet, he picked up the phone. The only thing more embarrassing than having slime all over your face was avoiding slime and then there not being any. Not sure if that made any sense. In other words, he didn’t want Harley to think he was a coward who couldn’t take a revenge.

“Hi?” he quaked into the phone cautiously.

“Hey kiddo.”

Peter sighed in relief. It was just Tony. Or was it _just_ Tony? He tensed up again. Maybe he was in on the plan. Maybe this was an elaborate plot that ended with him being completely embarrassed in front of _both_ his quarantine-partner and his mentor.

But to be honest, there weren’t many things that would be able to scare Tony away anymore. The man had definitely spent enough time with Peter to get used to his tendency of getting himself into embarrassing situations. Not elaborating on that though.

“What do you want?” he asked, feeling Harley’s intent stare on him.

“Oh, I just wanted to ask you how your day—“

“I don’t have time for that, Mr. Stark,” he interjected him. Tony had already called him twice that day – and Peter knew for a fact that he really wasn’t a person who liked to call people. Why did he decide to change his nature exactly on this day, when Peter was set off by every fly in the room? He hung up without another word.

Harley lifted an eyebrow. “Why so harsh today? I get the feelin’ something’s stressing you out.”

“You—“

Harley tilted his head expectantly, waiting for Peter to end his accusation, but Peter abruptly decided against doing so. It might be better not to give him a reason to start whatever it was he was plotting.

So Peter just grumbled and shot him another glare, before swiftly standing up and walking out of the living space.

He swore he could hear Harley huffing out a laugh behind him.

*

Peter was trying to study, he really was, but damn, was it hard. He had promised May and Pepper that he would participate in his online classes and do all the assigned work, even if there would be faster ways for him to get through the subject material. May had said that now that he wasn’t going out as Spider-Man he couldn’t make up excuses for not doing his homework, so he shouldn’t try and find a way to get around it.

And Peter had agreed with them on that – it wasn’t like he had a lot of better things to do, except working in the lab, and he still had time for that as online learning took up significantly less time than sitting around in school the entire day.

But as Peter sat in his room at the tower, his laptop and school stuff set up before him, he just couldn’t get his eyes to focus on the words right in front of them.

There were so many ways Harley could get back to him, and not a small amount of them excluded him being left unharmed, in whatever way that may be.

Just as Peter read through the same sentence for the sixth time – no, he didn’t know why he was able to count his attempts but not read the words themselves – someone nocked on the door. Peter twirled around in his chair and stared at the entrance anxiously, waiting for Harley to ask to come in or something and prepared himself for looking as unaffected and calm as possible, but the room remained silent.

After a second of waiting, Peter stood up and made his way to the door. He inhaled nervously and then pulled it open a tiny crack to peer out in the hallway. He was quite glad he didn’t get anything slammed into the face just in that moment, but still he couldn’t relax. Nobody was there in the hallway. And somehow that was more unsettling than Harley standing there, a potato-gun at the ready.

Slowly, Peter backed away into his room again and closed the door.

*

Harley woke up to loud rummaging in the hallway.

Someone cursed loudly. Everything was accompanied by a constant blaring.

He sat up in his bed and fixed his eyes on the door to his room as a smile already slipped onto his lips.

Just a second later it burst open, the blaring getting to its full sound capacity, and in the opening stood Peter, his silhouette outlined by the dim light in the hallway. He was in a hoodie and his signature pajama pants, and his hair was mussed up and standing off his head on the left side as if his pillow had formed it into a Mohawk haircut.

“Fuck you, Harley.”

“Goodnight to you too, Pete,” Harley countered loudly to be heard over the incessant alarm.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Occasionally.”

Peter stepped into the room and tossed his phone onto Harley’s bed.

“Are you for real right now?” he gestured to the blaring item that Harley now took and slowly began to unwrap the plastic wrap from that was enclosing it.

“ _This_ is your prank?”

Harley shrugged calmly, “I’m not that creative with pranking. Place 20 of ‘The best last-minute pranks to play on your friends’ had to do it. Besides, the thing was that you _thought_ it was gonna be somethin’ big.” He grinned smugly, feeling a bit like one of those villains in TV shows who revealed their entire plan before the hero. He always found those pretty stupid, but also, he really wanted to let Peter know that he had known exactly what he was doing. “The anticipation was priceless.”

Peter’s jaw noticeably clenched and his nostrils flared. “This is—this is just disappointing, Harley.”

“Well,” Harley finally deactivated the alarm, “when you almost spilled all of your cocoa over yourself when your phone rang, _I_ wasn’t disappointed.”

He could see the wheels turning inside of his head, “The calls …”

Harley’s grin just grew wider and wider, “It’s actually quite concerning that Tony didn’t have a problem with playing along.” He narrowed his eyes playfully, “But y’know, I think he just almost enjoyed participating in this strategical master plan as much as I did.”

Peter growled.

After he was done with that, it seemed like he didn’t really know what to do with himself in the dark and now also quiet room and suddenly Harley became aware of just what situation they were in. He had sat up in his bed and was only wearing shorts, and suddenly he felt exposed halfway reclined like that, and quickly pulled his sheets tighter to his chest.

It was a bit as if all the confident energy that had filled him up the entire day was being blown out of him, like there had been a smirking and mysteriously-coffee-sipping demon that had possessed him and now let go of him at the sight of Peter in his bedroom.

At his motions, he saw Peter’s eyes widen a bit, before he snatched his gaze away from him and stared at the floor intently, his lips pressed together tightly.

Oh, Harley wished he hadn’t done anything.

“Uh.”

Now he had made it weird. It wasn’t weird before he had started to think about it. Harley was good at making things weird.

“I’m gonna go to bed again now,” Peter muttered and backed out of the door, before he stopped again and looked back at Harley warily. “There aren’t any other traps, are there?”

The demon would have shrugged playfully with a perfectly arched brow, accompanied by a self-assured smirk on his lips.

But now he was just left with his usual self, the stuttering and nervous mess that he was. “Uh—no, no there aren’t.”

Peter nodded awkwardly and then closed the door behind him.

Harley sat there in the dark for a few minutes, thoughts twirling through his head, before he slipped back under his sheets and stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t go back to sleep after that.

*

The aggressive type. Definitely the aggressive type.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just planned out the ending for this (we're still far from that though so relax) and it's really angsty? I'm not sure whether I should do that. fluff? angst? both? ahhh


	6. objectively of course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally planned out like five parkner stories during the last few days and honestly, I'm so excited for all of them, so keep an eye out for me when this is finished (given that you wanna read more like this ofc ;))

“So … truce?”

“Definitely. Truce.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Peter smiled up at the other boy as Harley set down a plate before him, filled with scrambled egg and bacon.

“It’s better like this.”

“Yeah,” Harley grinned down at him. “I was already wreckin’ my brain for what prank I could pull on you.”

“I meant that it’s better that you’re the cook from now on, but … I mean, yeah, that too.”

Harley laughed. “Right. So … what are we gonna do today? Since we don’t wanna torment each other again.” He sat down across from him and rolled up his sleeves to set his elbows up on the counter.

He was in good shape, Peter noticed. (Well, he had noticed it before, last night for example, but now … it was just more obvious. And daytime.) That probably came with working on cars as much as he did. He hadn’t had freaky spider-powers injected that made him athletic overnight, nope, that was all him.

Peter shook his head and brought his thoughts back on track.

“Actually, I thought we might not completely stop with this type of leisure activities …”

Harley lifted his eyebrows in interest, “Go on.” and swallowed the food with exaggerated relish.

*

**Peter:** hey ned!

 **Peter:** do you maybe know someone whos good with hacking?

 **Peter:** like really good

 **Peter:** level hacking tony stark technology

 **Peter:** I know its an unusual request

 **Peter:** but we thought you might know someone like that

**Ned:** say no more

*

“So your prank war is over already?”

Peter and Harley exchanged glances and Peter explained, “Well, we both decided we didn’t want the floor or each one of us to go up in flames, and therefore it was better to set an end to it before it was too late.” Harley nodded along matter-of-factly.

Ned had been quite surprised to see Peter that relaxed around the other boy again, still having in mind how fidgety and maybe close to cardiac arrest his best friend had been just yesterday.

Now, they were sitting next to each other, behind them Ned could see Peter’s laboratory at the Tower. He had been there some times already, and even met Tony Stark more often than his young heart could really take. Ned was still trying to get used to the fact that his best friend was working for—or really, _with_ their biggest childhood hero. (And that his best friend _was_ a superhero. And that Ned was that superhero’s _sidekick_. Or something similar to that, Peter was a bit cagey about his exact job description.)

“You think you can do it?”

Harley was gazing at him expectantly, and Ned quickly went back to tapping away on his laptop. “I mean, it’s Tony Stark’s system after all, and there are quite a few barriers that really don’t make it easy to—“

“Neeeed.” Peter pouted at him impatiently.

Ned broke into a grin. “Yeah, I’m almost in,” he conceded and watched as Peter pumped a fist as Harley watched on amused. “Relax, dude.”

“Don’t you think it might be a bad idea to prank on Stark while you’re … well, _in_ Stark Tower?” MJ tossed in.

Ned wasn’t entirely sure why she even joined them on the call. She was reading again, just like during their last video calls, her book so close to the camera that nothing else was visible. But then, maybe she just liked to make fun of whatever they came up with.

“What’s he supposed to do? Disconnect us from Netflix?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he gasped, “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“Wow, you’re really invested in this plan, aren’t ya?” Harley just laughed, “He won’t do anything, he loves us both too much for that.” With that he stood up. “I’m gonna make myself a sandwich, you want one too, Pete?”

“Oh, yes, I’m so hungry already, thanks!”

Harley disappeared out of the camera’s field of view and Peter turned back to him and MJ, a toothy smile on his face.

Ned was kind of jealous of Peter and Harley.

His parents were working in home office and he was sitting in his room doing online classes. He wouldn’t have thought to ever get to this point, but there was something that was even worse than Mr. Harrington droning on about the subject material – Mr. Harrington droning on about the subject material while he was only a tiny tile on his laptop and complaining every other minute about the poor internet connection.

Ned was sure it all would be a lot more bearable if he had company and was able to snicker about the teacher’s unability to even make it seem as if the subject was interesting with his friends. As he thought that, an idea popped up his head …

“Peter. Do you think I could come stay with you?”

Peter looked up at the camera and frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I’m just so bored. Wouldn’t it be a lot cooler if I could stay at the Tower too?

“I mean,” Peter seemed to mull over the possibility in his head and Ned leaned forward hopefully. “Mr. Stark would probably not be _that_ happy … but,” Ned pouted at him, “I can try maybe?”

As Ned broke into an exhilarating grin, MJ sighed behind her book and then slowly set it down to glare at them.

“What?”

“You can’t just move to quarantine somewhere else, Ned. That’s the whole point of this. Especially not—“ She fell silent.

“Especially not what?” Ned narrowed his eyes at her.

MJ sighed again and brought out her phone.

Just a second later, a message illuminated Ned’s phone on the bed next to him.

**MJ:** stop it

Ned frowned at her on his laptop screen and then slowly texted back.

**Ned:** why are you texting me when were literally talking to each other?

**MJ:** You’re texting back so you know what this is about

**Ned:** I don’t???

“Guys?” Peter perked up and Ned looked up from his phone again. “I can literally see you texting each other, what’s going on?”

“I don’t—“ Ned wanted to tell his best friend that he was just as confused as he was, if not even more, but then his phone lit up again.

**MJ:** You know Harley and Peter are staying at the tower together?

**Ned:** yeah of course?

“Guys, this isn’t funny.”

**MJ:** And you saw them

**Ned:** yeah? like just a minute ago? wdym

Ned saw MJ looking up at him from his laptop, and winced at the stink-eye she was giving him.

**MJ:** Did you see how nervous Peter was yesterday when we talked?

**Ned:** because of harleys prank

MJ sighed again, more desperately this time.

**Ned:** i don’t get it

“You’re mean.” Peter crossed his arms before his chest and pouted at both of them. “You’re not my friends anymore now. Harley’s gonna be my new best friend from now on.”

Just then, Harley had slipped into the lab again and walked back to their table. He chuckled, “To what do I owe the honor, darlin’?” and set down two plates before him and Peter, which Peter payed off with a smile so bright it might just outshine the sun.

Ned knew that smile. Or well, a dimmed down version of it. It was the one he used to look at Liz with (when he wasn’t to occupied with gazing at her dreamily) and all the other girls that were totally out of his league he had crushed on during their friendship.

And even though Ned had never seen his best friend use it on a boy, he still recognized it.

**Ned:** wait I think I got it

**MJ:** Thank god.

“Peter,” Ned began, and just then Peter seemed to remember them on the video call, “On second thought, I think I’m fine on my own,” he stated.

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion. “What? You literally just whined about how bored you are—“

This was a moment in his life where his needs needed to wait in line. Best friend duties had to be fulfilled. “Yeah, well, I’m over it now. I’ll be fine. You stay on your own.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Peter’s gaze switched back and forth between MJ and Ned and he narrowed his eyes at them, before shaking his head and shrugging wordlessly.

“So, are we gonna do this now or not?” Harley asked and clapped his hand together enthusiastically.

Peter grinned at him. “Yes, we are!”

Peter would truly be lost without them. Or well, without MJ.

*

“I’m setting you up for adoption!”

“Y’know, I do believe that’s only possible when—“

“Oh, shut it, Keener!”

Peter was having the time of his life.

It was a combination of the fact that Tony had been trying to find fitting insults and sufficiently outraged allegations for them for the past five minutes, and the circumstance that he still hadn’t succeeded in getting FRIDAY back under control.

It took them two hours to execute their plan and Peter had to say, considering Ned and him were sixteen and Harley just a year older, and FRIDAY was made by Tony who was about ten times older than all of their ages combined, that lapse of time was quite impressive.

The good thing (and somehow also the worst thing, but not for them today) about modern technologies was the fact that it meant that basically everything was connected. Which led to the conclusion that once you were able to access _one_ part of the system, you could basically get ahold of _everything._

One might think that with that knowledge and their combined powers they would take over the world. And they probably could.

But first, their powers had to be used to add a bit of spice to Tony Stark’s quarantine-life.

Dum-e and U hadn’t stopped blaring old pop songs from 2010, FRIDAY kept on sending out messages to Tony’s contacts varying between, “happy birthday”, “I’m gonna go for president” and a picture that Peter had taken some months ago when Tony passed out in the lab after being awake for about 60 hours and Peter had put his Thor-themed blanket around him and his Spider-Man plushy in his arms. (Peter had actually wanted to keep it for threat-demanding situations but Harley had insisted, “If not now, when, Pete?”) Tony hadn’t yet come to a solution as to how to stop them.

Harley and Peter had made themselves comfortable on the couch and put the laptop that was still connected with Ned and MJ next to them, so that they could all take in the outcome of their hard work via the video connection FRIDAY had pulled up to Tony’s lab a floor below them.

“Peter, whether you believe it or not, some of my contacts are in fact not that unimportant and sending out random—“

“You’re not the same I used to know, old man,” Harley interjected him. “You didn’t care what others thought of you once.” He shook his head and Peter snickered.

“I believe that’s what comes with having children …”

“Children? I—“

“I think you’re just afraid that you’ll have to explain to someone that a bunch of teenagers hacked your Artificial Intelligence.”

Tony pointed a finger at them. “I bet FRIDAY just let you take control voluntarily.”

Harley narrowed his eyes. “… Would that make the situation any better for you?”

Tony massaged his temples. “Why are you even turning on me, Keener, I literally helped you with your prank on Peter!”

“Well, that was really mean of you!”

Even though Tony’s question _was_ a bit interesting, Peter just laughed along as the man gave Harley an _Are you fucking kidding me?_ kind of look.

“That doesn’t make _any_ —Wait. Who’s that on that laptop?”

“MJ and—”

“The one who hacked the suit? Matt?”

Ned’s face turned the shade of a fire truck. Peter wasn’t sure whether it was because he had been revealed to be the hacker of Tony Stark’s multi-million dollar suit or because Tony Stark remembered him to be the hacker of his multi-million dollar suit. Probably both.

“He almost said my name,” Ned breathed out then, his eyes wide as if Tony hadn’t met him several times and only called him by the wrong name to piss off Peter.

“He did.” Tony sighed. “Couldn’t you just hack it and leave it at that to show me how genius you are? Was all of this necessary?” He gestured around the lab. FRIDAY had just put on disco lights.

Harley shrugged. “Would’ve been less fun that way.”

“Okay, this is it. Bye, kids, I’m never talking to you again.” He glared at them and then the screen went black.

*

**Peter:** soooo what do you think of harley?

 **Peter:** is he worthy of being admitted to our super cool and awesome club of losers?

**Ned:** I think hes cool

 **Ned:** funny

 **Ned:** chill

**MJ:** hot

**Ned:** hahaha

**Peter:**?????????

 **Peter:** mj?????

**MJ:** Objectively, you dumbass.

 **MJ:** Any objections?

**Peter:** I mean

 **Peter:** hes not ugly

 **Peter:** his hair is fluffy

 **Peter:** and his eyes are pretty

 **Peter:** hes quite buff actually

 **Peter:** objectively ofc

**MJ:** I meant objections to the admittance

**Peter:** oh

 **Peter:** yeah of course

 **Peter:** sorry

 **Peter:** go on

**MJ:** …

 **MJ:** MOVING ON-

 **MJ:** It’s up to you Ned, I already approved him

**Peter:** RIGHT when you told him he could call u mj

 **Peter:** how could I forget

**MJ:** You’re still mad about that?

**Peter:** im not mad

 **Peter:** just feeling a bit betrayed

 **Peter:** what did you text about?

**MJ:** ...

**Ned:** guys?

**Peter:** oh yeah sorry

 **Peter:** tell us your mind

**Ned:** Thank you.

 **Ned:** After long and careful deliberation of this weeks proposal

 **Ned:** I have come

 **Ned:** to the decision

 **Ned:** that

**Peter:** oh come on

**Ned:** leave me

 **Ned:** harley keener is herewith the newest member of the super cool and awesome club of losers!!!

**Peter:** yeeeaaah

 **Peter:** wait I’m gonna go and tell him

 **Peter:** harley says hes “incredibly thankful and delighted” to be admitted to the super cool and awesome club of losers!!!

**MJ:** as he should be

**Peter:** he wants to know if there really isn’t an initiation

**Ned:** ……no?

**Peter:** he says we should make one then

**Peter added Harley to The Super Cool and Awesome Club of Losers**

**Harley:** my first proposal for this club will be to think of an acronym for this crappy club name

**Peter:** TSCACL!!!

**Harley:** he just exclaimed that so loudly I almost fell off the couch

 **Harley:** is it possible to quit the club after just being admitted?

 **Harley:** asking for a friend

**MJ:** This is what you signed up for, Harley.

*

Harley was washing the dishes as The Voice from Above announced a call for him.

They had just finished dinner and he had told Peter to pick out a movie (“Anything, as long as it doesn’t have anything to do with Star Wars.” – “Buzzkill.”) while he cleaned up the kitchen. Harley had tried to make tortillas, and while they weren’t as bad as Peter’s breakfast attempt, they still weren’t that enjoyable, so he insisted on at least clearing the crime scene.

“Boss would like to speak to you, Mr. Keener.”

“Accept.” Harley couldn’t wait to get back to the couch (Peter) but he wasn’t as desperate as to ignore Tony because of that.

“I hear the music has stopped blaring?” he sang out as the call connected. Not to sound sadistic, but he had been really enjoying Tony’s state of utter despair. (Yes, he was being sadistic.) (At least when Tony was the victim of their shenanigans.)

“Your hearing is well then, good for you,” the man chirped back, and Harley’s heart sank a bit. Tony was still mad (which wasn’t a surprise), but now it was mixed with a tone of malice, like there was something Tony knew that he didn’t. Harley didn’t like the feeling.

“I’m calling to talk to you about something.”

“Extraordinary.”

Tony just laughed. This definitely wasn’t a good sign.

“Well, just recently I figured out what you heathens did to my lady and got her back to the sane living. With her regained powers, I thought I might as well put her to use.”

“Did you check out this article on the absolute ridiculousness of Tony Stark going for president some Christine Everhart or so wrote for Vanity Fair? Definitely worth a read. She makes some solid points about how someone who sleeps with a Thor blanket can’t—”

“You know I’d win the election,” Tony deadpanned. “I’m just a little to occupied with the heathens that live under my roof to do that. Back on topic. You know that FRIDAY records everything that goes on in the tower, right?”

“No? That’s freaky as hell.”

“No, it isn’t.” Tony huffed. “It’s necessary. Which was proven just today.”

“Honestly, what are you on about?” Harley asked, furrowing his brows. That’s what Peter must have felt like the entire last day – like maybe there was a piano hanging right above his head that would crash him with one false motion.

“I remembered that Peter was a bit weird when he talked to me that first night you stayed here,” the man said and Harley stiffened.

“FRIDAY, reconnect the call to my phone.” He brought out his phone and walked away from the kitchen island, Peter, who was sitting on the couch undisturbed by the call still in his view.

Tony continued unfazed, “He said that if one of you was infected, the other would be, too. And I – the innocence impersonated – thought, _huh, probably they just didn’t think of the six-feet-apart rule._ But I still checked. And guess what I saw.”

Harley didn’t say anything.

_This is how I die,_ he thought. He could already imagine the headline: _17-Year-Old Found Dead with Tony Stark Cackling on the Phone._

There was silence in the line as Harley anticipated his impending death blow.

“A _common greeting?”_

He buried his head in his hands.

“What the hell, Keener?” Tony called out between his laughter. “I swear— _A common greeting?”_

Harley hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you think there's a 'wingman!mj' tag? if not I'll make it one I promise


	7. they're ... sticky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!
> 
> soo this is kinda inspired by this chapter in rainbow rowell's 'carry on' where the mc simon talks about this list he has of the things he misses about his school and then somehow manages to make every point about his roommate baz he totally d o e s n t have a crush on ;)
> 
> lots of love!

Harley loved staying at the Tower.

Of course, the events that led to his stay weren’t optimal – or anything on that spectrum really – but still, Harley couldn’t complain in any way.

And he found himself feeling guilty, because his mother was in Rose Hill and working, and his sister wasn’t even home and working on her own in some small town even smaller than their small town, and he was here, in a building so billionaire-playboy-philanthropist-ish it made his eyes water.

He wished he could just have his sister flown in to stay with him – she would probably stare at all the rooms and sleek floors with a slacked jaw and then declare she was now going to take a bath in the in-house whirlpool.

Harley had to smile at the imagination and turned on the couch to check his phone. He blinked into the brightness of the display, turning it off with the digits 02:00 etched into his fundus. He fell back into the cushions and turned to Peter who tossed around for a second. He watched on amused as the boy asleep next to him snuggled deeper into the blankets.

After spending the entire last night experimenting in the lab while Harley was sleeping peacefully, Peter had fallen asleep ten minutes into their movie. Harley had put a blanket over the boy as he decided to stay in the living area for the night as well.

It was Saturday, four days since they’d pranked Tony and slowly but surely, they had found a routine in their new quarantine circumstances. Only now that the confusion and agitation of his arrival had settled down a bit, he was able to recognize the setting he found himself in.

He had spent quite a long time reading about everything the Tower had to offer between the enormous lobby and the penthouse in the top floors when he was about fourteen and the next time Tony had called, he asked him a ton of questions about the futuristic building, all the laboratories and the exciting projects, and the floors he designed for the Avengers.

However, fate chose to have Harley stay in the building of his dreams at a time he wasn’t even able to look at most of these things as they weren’t allowed to leave their floor.

But, you know, you gotta enjoy the little things. And in this case, they weren’t even little things, but still one big ass floor of the penthouse.

**Nr. 1** of the not so little things Harley loved about their part of the Tower was the kitchen.

Yep, he was aware of how weird that sounded.

Back in Rose Hill he had always kind of been the one to swing the stir stick – his mom was out late for work and Abby was almost as bad at cooking as Peter was (only that she messed up on purpose _all the time_ so she wouldn’t have to stand in the kitchen, that brat).

Now, Harley had never actually _enjoyed_ cooking, but since he made breakfast for them that morning and discovered the huge collection of cooking utensils, he decided he might as well do what Peter had professed to do in their time locked up – and that was improving his cooking skills.

He searched up some receipts and asked FRIDAY to tell him the steps as he rummaged through the cabinets, glad to have found something to do with himself.

Sometimes, Peter was sitting behind him at the counter scrolling through his phone. Harley hated to admit it, but he couldn’t deny the fact that the number of dropped ingredients and baking sheets he swooped off the counter increased when that was the case.

Sometimes, Harley wondered if Peter was only there because he enjoyed to see Harley mess up and go all agitated when he joined him, but honestly, he strongly doubted Peter would even notice his nervousness if he outright told him his presence was unsettling.

“Y’know, I could actually make pancakes if this doesn’t work,” Peter had perked up once as Harley took in a baking sheet of half-way burned macarons.

“I really don’t know whether that’s a good idea,” Harley had muttered, as he poked a fork into one of them. “I thought we decided the kitchen’s my area?”

Peter just huffed. “I think there’s a difference between cooking and baking. Maybe I’m not that bad at it.”

“I’d rather not test that theory,” he countered, and Peter pouted.

“Besides,” Harley rushed to add, “I think these are still edible…”

Peter then had jumped up and walked to his side to munch up one of the macarons. After narrowing his eyes critically for a whole minute, he smiled up at him, the mischievous glint clear in his eyes.

“I don’t think they’re edible.”

“What?”

“I think,” Peter had started, and then began to shovel macarons in his hands, “I gotta eat them all on my own!”

He had gasped in faux exasperation, “No! You can’t just keep them to yourself!”

Harley shook his head to let go of the scene, frowning into the dark. The amazing kitchen, that’s what he’d been thinking about. And his amazing food.

It was just unfortunate that his success with the receipts weirdly correlated with a certain presence during his cooking.

_Aaaand_ , he was off track again. Okay. **Nr. 2.**

The labs.

He had known from his calls with Tony that just staying in the labs instead of sleeping was quite tempting, as he did so almost every night. But that temptation was one that had to be resisted – because he had also learned that Pepper became pretty furious and determined in stopping Tony from ignoring his tiredness if he didn’t.

And damn, was it hard to withstand. The laboratories were from another world. (Not even just figuratively – Peter had shown him some tech that Shuri had brought on her rare visits to the Tower, and if Vibranium wasn’t otherworldly, what was?) There was holo tech and Avengers equipment and whatnot – honestly, if he couldn’t marry some handsome guy later on he would just marry the labs of Stark Tower. Not even kidding.

Speaking of handsome—okay, no. Not gonna go there.

Peter – and he was saying this without any relation to the abovementioned sentence starter – was a mastermind in the lab. He was about the most intelligent human being he had ever met – and he had met Tony Stark, just for reference.

He had taken pride in the fact that he was pretty smart himself his entire life, it was what he had been holding onto all those years he had trudged to school, knowing someday it would get him out of that rural hell.

But comparing his being smart to Peter’s being smart was – just kinda pointless. Peter was the kind of intelligent that has you stand there for a second to comprehend that the words he had said were even human language. It was like he was bubbling over with formulas and equations and ideas, and while it should definitely piss off Harley at some point, it was kind of like an incentive.

Because he really didn’t want Peter to think he was stupid.

_Anyways,_ **Nr. 3.** His room.

Comfy bed, _the_ View, he hadn’t had that much space in ages. (When Abby saw the photos he had snapped of it she said he should just marry Peter as soon as possible so she would get a room like that too.) (He hung up on her.)

**Nr. 4.** His guitar.

When Tony had asked him to stay at the Tower, Harley had said, “Now buy me a guitar and it’s a deal!”

It was a joke. Just a comment. But the moment he’d said it, he realized that Tony-“I’ll gift some teen I barely know an entire garage of equipment!”-Stark wouldn’t get that.

“If that’s all it takes,” he had just chuckled, and days later, as Harley asked him about the literal new guitar in his room, he said, “Maybe you can play some of that country crap to Peter, he’s been listening to it non-stop before you arrived.”

He really wondered why Peter would—

**_Nr. 5._** Just. The fact that _the Avengers_ had walked through these floors. That they held game nights here once a month if you were to believe Peter, and that this was the place they’d fought Loki back all those years. And now he was here. Alongside a literal superhero.

The Spider-Man thing was still kind of a big deal to him, but most of the time he had honestly just forgotten about it. Just, _sometimes_ , that was as good as impossible. Because, and yes, he knew that was kinda redundant at this point – Peter was bad at having a secret identity. Just … _so_ incredibly bad.

On the second morning after they had pranked Tony, Harley was up a bit earlier, because Abby had rung him out of his peaceful sleep to ask whether he would prefer to be cremated or buried (“What the hell?” you might think, and well, Harley had been living with her for as long as he was able to think and he didn’t even try to understand her.) (He didn’t even want to know how bored she was if she was already planning his testament.)

After answering her and then hanging up on her as she inquired what song he’d choose for his funeral, he decided he might just give up on trying to fall asleep again and was just on his way to the kitchen as he walked by Peter’s room. Not that he was being creepy or anything, the door was open, so there kinda wasn’t any way he would _not_ have seen what he saw in that moment.

“What the hell are you doin’ on the ceiling?”

Peter literally shrieked in shock and stumbled and for a second it seemed like he was going to catch himself, but then his feet lost their contact to the ceiling and he crashed down to the floor.

(Yes, Harley did see his chance to catch him last second like a Disney prince, but also, he wasn’t ready to die yet.)

Harley had to admit, he was a bit upset that he wouldn’t get to triumphantly reveal that he knew of Peter’s secret alter ego. There was just no way on earth that Peter would even _try_ to talk himself out of this one.

“Harley! I—what are you doing here? I thought you were still asleep?” Peter’s voice was thin and airy, and he was looking at anything except Harley as he talked.

“Y’know, I was just,” he bit on the insides of his cheeks for a second, thinking hard, “uh … testing new shoes.”

Wait. What. Short break. Peter was seriously trying to come up with a cover story for how he was walking on the ceiling? Yikes.

Partly, he was a bit offended that Peter thought he would buy that (but honestly, Harley hadn’t stressed Peter’s naivety too little either)and partly impressed by the boy’s firm belief of being inconspicuous at all at this point.

“They’re—you know,” he saw how Peter struggled to find the words, “… sticky?”

„I see.”

„So I can stick to the ceiling.”

„Of course,” Harley just nodded, as though that was the most natural thing to want to achieve.

„And do they work?”

„You wanna try?”

Okay, what? Why would he? That’s so stupid. He was going to unveil his own lie if he let Harley try out his completely ordinary shoes. Except. They actually worked. What other reason would there be than that? Maybe Peter had made them to support his actual spider powers. That would be awesome.

„That would be awesome.”

Peter grinned at him and slipped off his sneakers, and passed them Harley warily as if they were Cinderella’s glass slippers. Harley bent down to put them on (they were too small, of course) and lifted his feet a few times to see if they stuck to the floor, but it didn’t feel like they did. „It’s not working.”

„It only activates when you’re in a horizontal position. Otherwise you would stick to the floor while walking,” Peter gestured to his feet, “that’d be kinda rough, huh?”

„Makes sense. So,” Harley made a face, “I just gotta … walk up the wall, or what?”

„Exactly.” He nodded. “I’ll help you.”

They walked over to one wall of Peter’s bedroom and Harley lifted his leg gingerly so the shoe touched the surface completely. He looked at the other boy questioningly.

„Right, now we just have to get you up there.”

Peter held his back and suddenly Harley was feeling hyper aware of every inch of his body that he touched and he inhaled shakily, while he quickly lifted his other leg in one quick motion, expecting his feet to hold him in position as soon as his other foot touched the wall. But, somehow … it didn’t – and suddenly Harley was crashing to the floor.

Peter was standing next to him, barely holding in laughter. „Huh. I was _so_ sure it would work.”

That asshole.

He offered Harley his hand with the restrained smile still playing around his lips, and shortly he contemplated if he should just push it aside roughly and call him out on the obvious lie. He had shamelessly taken advantage of the fact that Harley seemingly didn’t know of his very real stickiness. However, he stopped himself and grudgingly took his hand.

He was still holding on to the sheer anticipation that filled him at the thought of getting to reveal that he knew _everything._

He had now come to know on several occasions that Peter Parker indeed was a pain in the ass, and yet, he could not deny that he was also a human puppy. Or something like that.

Peter was the kind of person who thanked the bus driver when he got off. He wasn’t really able to get supporting evidence for that at the moment, but also it wasn’t like he needed it.

Because he had come to know his signature good morning smile Peter gave him _every_ morning. And he had experienced the way Peter talked to FRIDAY – as if she was a real person and deserved the same kindness a friend received from him, raising his head to the ceiling with a bright smile plastered on his face as if she was right there, and saying “thank you” and “please” every time they spoke.

So maybe it was more like, **Nr. 5.** – Peter Parker. Because, _Peter Parker > a puppy._

Harley sat up on the couch and ran his hands through his hair.

He had a problem.

Ding, ding, you’re right! It was a curly haired, adorable faced and enhanced kind of problem. Who knew.

They had become friends, that much was clear. At the point where one of you is able to just fall asleep peacefully next to the other, you just kinda automatically upgrade from strangers to friends, right?

And while he still believed it would be better not to make a move on the other boy, it was just impossible to not get to know him better.

He was an excessive cocoa drinker because coffee apparently made him too fidgety, and he was blessed with the talent of being able to ignore the basic vital function of sleep so long, Harley would just keel over if he tried. (Maybe he should though.) (What if Peter would carry him to bed again?)

Oh man. This was ridiculous. What was he even trying to prove to himself? That he could suppress his feelings until they would miraculously disappear?

Not gonna happen. So he might as well deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah harley, deal with it!
> 
> aaand if you haven't read it already I really recommend carry on it's the best


	8. i'm disrespecting an authority figure!

Dealing with his feelings wasn’t something Harley was very good at. That much was clear after he had successfully spent his entire calculus class gazing over at Peter who was hunched over his laptop as well.

He kept on chewing on his pencil, and really, would it be anyone else Harley would think nothing else about that than ‘absolutely disgusting’. And, well, he still thought exactly that, but also, he didn’t look away.

Peter and him had been doing their school work in the living area since their third day of online classes. He didn’t even know why exactly – that day he just hadn’t felt like holing up in his room (as cool as it was) (the room, not the holing up) with his school work, and therefore he decided to plop down in one of the bean bags scattered across the living area with his laptop in his lap.

Just about an hour later, Peter had come by and found Harley lying on his back in the bean bag, his head hanging upside down in front of the laptop on the floor, a package of Oreos balanced on his stomach. And as Harley tried to get himself into a little more decent looking position, he asked, “Mind if I come work here too?”

“Uh—no, no, totally, you can!” Harley had stuttered out, and soon enough Peter was just a few meters next to him at the dining table (that they never used) (for TV and weirdness reasons) and Harley had to say, if his work ethic had been shitty before, it was now utter shit.

It had something to do with the way Peter seemed to have a habit of running his hand through his curls when he was thinking, and thinking he was a lot apparently. And it had something to do with the correlation of that action and Harley’s heart rate.

“I’m _bored_.”

Peter lifted his head from his laptop and Harley whipped his head back to his own before Peter caught him staring at him.

“Uh—bored?” His voice was a bit high-pitched and he quickly cleared his throat. “I thought you were doing school?” Ah, better.

Peter sighed audibly. “Yeah, I am. I just … wanna do something else.”

“Told you so. School’s gonna get boring before you can even try and find it interesting.”

“Oh yes, wise man, how could I doubt your fortune telling for just one second!” Peter deadpanned.

Harley rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “And what’s on your mind? I mean, on doing something else?”

“I don’t know…” Peter frowned in concentration and then shrugged. “We could prank Mr. Stark again?”

Harley gave a one-sided shrug.

He hadn’t exactly talked to the man during the last few days – he had a feeling he wouldn’t survive that next conversation with his pride unscathed. Tony did know he was gay – he had come out to him about a year ago, and it wasn’t like the man had really cared – so that wasn’t the problem.

But he had learned during the last days that Peter’s and Tony’s relationship was, well … more than a mentor-mentee-thing? As soon as Tony’s amusement about the whole greeting-incident had worn out he would surely come to the conclusion that leaving his intern (or whatever it was that he thought of him as) alone with Harley wasn’t something he really wanted to see.

And most of all, Harley was just really embarrassed.

“I dunno about that.” Harley bit on his bottom lip, and struggled to find the words to explain why exactly pranking Tony could lead to unpleasant events. “Let’s just say he has somethin’ on me.”

Peter lifted an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.

Elaborating would include talking about how Peter’s father figure or whatever Tony was for him found out about the most embarrassing thing he had ever done. So nope, not gonna do that.

“You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Nope,” Harley sang out, putting his all into giving off a casual vibe.

Peter threw him a glare, but just as most of his moods did, it disappeared after a hot second and was replaced by his thinking face. “Maybe Mr. Stark allows us to go to the roof—“

“The roof? What’s there?”

“Oh, it’s just a really beautiful view, my favorite in the entire city,” Peter’s gaze shifted to the windows, and a soft smile slipped on his lips. “Sometimes I go up there to relax after a shitty day or so. It’s nice.” He looked back at him and shrugged lightly.

“But Mr. Stark probably won’t let us go there anyway, he’s so adamant about us not leaving the floor,” he added, the corners of his mouth dipping slightly.

Harley slouched back a bit at that concern, upset that his suggestion was indeed kind of unrealistic. What was great though, was that Peter apparently would have wanted to show him his favorite view of New York – and mind you he was Spider-Man, so that meant that it had to be a damn special one.

“Well, I’ll just get myself something to eat then,” Peter pushed back his chair, “You want something too?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Harley said, pointing to the Oreos in his lap. They kind of became a consistent part of his school routine – a fresh pack every day. (True quarantine-spirit, ain’t it?)

Peter just walked away towards the kitchen. “You’re missing out on my amazing snack-making skills!” he called behind.

“If they’re any close to your cooking skills I can well do without them!”

Peter grumbled, already fed up with the bashing of his kitchen capabilities.

Turning back to his laptop as Peter disappeared, an undeniable smile was gracing Harley’s lips, just as his phone chimed right through his ear, lying next to his head on the bean bag.

He grimaced as he took it up in his hands and almost let it slip right back as he saw the caller ID.

_Tonyyyy_

Seeing the name on his phone made Harley want to throw either himself or the phone out of the window, and that for more reasons than one. First, just because it was Tony and the last time he had called him it had resulted in Harley wearing a horrified expression on his face until Peter commented on it suspiciously and he quickly exchanged it with a strained smile. Second, the fact that Tony called him on his phone and hadn’t once tried to talk to him via FRIDAY was terrifying itself, as it implied that the conversation wasn’t made for Peter’s ears to hear. Which was great in the sense that Tony apparently wanted to keep Peter in the dark about his gained knowledge. But also, it was just incredibly sweat-inducing.

So, back to Harley and his urge to jump out of the window.

He cleaned his palms on the hem of his t-shirt and took the phone up in his hands, clearing his throat nervously. He wouldn’t be able to ignore the man much longer, if the red _(8)_ next to his contact name and its earlier growing rate were anything to go by. Tony in fact seemed to want to talk to him pretty urgently.

He threw a glance in direction of the kitchen, but Peter was probably just starting on his snack-making skills.

“Hey, Tony.”

There was a pause, as if the man was a bit shocked to actually hear his voice on the other end of the line. “Harley.”

Then, he snorted.

Harley groaned, “Really, now? You call me up eight fucking times just to laugh at me?”

Tony calmed down a bit. “No, no, actually not. It’s just really funny.”

“Thanks for remindin’ me.”

Harley shut his eyes and turned his face up to the ceiling, sending out a quick prayer that Tony wouldn’t try to talk to him about the incident. He was able to handle so much, but that did not include talking to Tony Stark about how he panic-kissed a handsome boy in greeting.

Tony cleared his throat. “I’m actually calling about a more … serious conversation.”

Harley opened his eyes so fast the room swayed a bit before him. “What?”

But before Tony could utter a single more word about this alerting declaration, someone spoke up behind Harley. “Is that Mr. Stark?”

Harley turned to find Peter standing next to the couch, a plate in his hand. He just nodded wordlessly, stunned into silence.

“Awesome. Can I talk to him quickly?”

“Sure,” he said and basically shoved the phone into Peter’s hand, wanting to get away from it as fast as possible.

“Hey, Mr. Stark! You don’t have that much to do, have you?”

Harley couldn’t hear the answer, but the eye-roll that Peter made at whatever it was managed to bring across Tony’s indignation at that assumption.

“Yeah, I know you’re doing a lot of father duties…….. _Yes,_ Mr. Stark……..She did? That’s adorable!” Peter smiled and the world went a little brighter. “Actually, Mr. Stark?” There was a pause as he waited for the man to actually listen to him.

“Yeah, okay, so, I had this idea. It’s just—nothing big, and like, if you don’t think it’s a good idea you don’t have to—“ he broke off and smiled at Harley half apologetically half nervously, as Tony obviously lectured him about his rambling on the other end of the line.

“Yes, okay, I’ll just tell you. Because … I know I can’t help in— _other_ ways,” he threw a cautious glance in Harley’s direction, “but I _still_ want to do something for the people out there.”

Peter set down the plate he was still holding and used his now free hand to gesture slightly as he began to explain. “I mean, there are population groups that have more serious issues than boredom. Like, I thought about how homeless people don’t even have any chances to access sanitary facilities and they’re moving regularly. They’re a lot more vulnerable than all of us. Even more now that so many people are losing their jobs because of this. I thought about … creating shelters where they can get free meals? And have their temperature taken or something. And where they have handwashing stations and shelter. SI could—I don’t know, finance something like that, right? I mean, if you think it’s worth a shot—”

Again, he was cut off by something Tony said, but Harley couldn’t concentrate on his anxious face to figure out what he was saying, because he was too enraptured by what Peter had said.

He had never even thought about that. He hadn’t been thinking about the virus at all that much during the last days, if he was being honest. Which was kind of startling, considering it was the whole reason he was even here. But Peter had obviously thought about it a lot, and not only that, he was actually thinking about organizing an aid program. Could this boy get any better?

“Really?” Peter said then, a grin spreading all over his face, “I’m glad.”

After exchanging some quick words about the project and the intention to talk about it more later on, Peter said his goodbyes and gave the phone back to Harley.

Oh no, he didn’t want it. He surely didn’t want to know what exactly Tony deemed a ‘more serious conversation’.

Peter must have seen the displeasure on his face because he chuckled slightly as Harley raised the phone back to his ear, a grimace on his face.

“Harley?”

“Yep, I’m here again.”

“Great,” Tony started and inhaled heavily. A girl’s voice was heard on the line. “Hey, Morgan’s here! …… No, honey, no bad timing! Not at all.” Tony turned to Harley again, “Actually, you know what? No. Let’s talk about it some other day. In the future.” The man groaned. “Yeah, I really don’t feel like talking about this right now.”

Harley sputtered for a moment, “Huh? Oh, well, no problem!”

“Yeah, right. But don’t think we’re done with this! Bye! Say bye to Harley, Morgan.”

“Bye, Harley!” the girl’s voice came through his phone.

“Bye!”

The call disconnected and Harley huffed out a laugh, not quite believing yet that he had actually gotten around whatever conversation even Tony himself deemed terrifying. Peter was looking at him with narrowed eyes, probably wondering why the call had ended so abruptly.

“That was weird,” he said.

“You’re weird,” Harley countered.

Wow. Just, wow. What an insult. Why did his brain always come up with the most stupid things to say?

Peter snorted and turned back to the table, shaking his head slightly. He was about to turn back to his work too, but then he felt how much lighter he was now, ecstatic of having escaped a definitely cruel conversation, and that somehow made him feel bolder. He didn’t want to go back to his work again just yet. He could as well get to the bottom of something he'd been wondering about.

“Why don’t you call him Tony?”

Peter’s head snapped back to him, and yep, there was already a flustered edge to his expression.

“What do you mean?”

He straightened up in the bean bag. “Like, you always say ‘Mr. Stark’. And you told me you only did it to piss him off.”

Peter nodded wordlessly.

“But you also do that when he isn’t even around. Literally all the time. And that makes me question whether you actually do it for pain-in-the-ass reasons.” He lifted his eyebrow and watched as Peter flushed up visibly.

Welp, if he hadn’t struck gold right there.

“What? I—I _can_ call him …” his mouth was hanging open and he tilted his head slightly, and when no ‘Tony’ followed, Harley held back a smug grin and only allowed himself a close-lipped smile.

“Can you though?”

Peter rubbed at the nape of his neck and avoided Harley’s gaze, and he felt relegated to the day he had been able to make Peter squirm just by sipping his coffee.

Peter went into defensive mode. “I mean, it’s just a habit … It’s not like, important, is it?” He shrugged.

“It _is_ kinda important. You wanna keep on callin’ him Mr. Stark when he’s legally adopted you? I don’t think so.”

Peter sputtered and Harley sat up from the bean bag to walk over to the dining table, where he sat down across from the red turned boy and looked at him with a frown.

Peter visibly broke in. “It’s just,” he rolled his eyes, “Mr. Stark’s kind of my childhood hero, y’know. And even though I’ve known him for literal years … or maybe it’s exactly because of that. He’s kind of like, a—a …” He gestured with his hands, but couldn’t find the words to say it.

“Father figure.”

Peter hid his face behind his hands, but Harley could still see the small nod.

“I think I found us something to do that’s more interesting than school,” he declared, a smirk slipping on his lips. This was going to be fun.

*

“T-O-N-Y.”

“Ton…” The last part was muffled by Peter burying his face in his arms as Harley huffed out a laugh.

“T!”

“I hate you.”

“T!”

“T.”

“O!”

“O.”

“N!”

“N.”

“Y!”

“Y.”

“Alright. Now – _TONY_.”

“Ton—ugh, this is ridiculous! How am I supposed to look at him and say that? I’m disrespecting an authority figure!”

Harley shook his head. “How can you call someone an ‘authority figure’ who you’ve literally pulled a prank on?”

Peter glared at him.

“Then just call him dad.”

He hid his face again. “Shut up, you’re making it even worse!”

“No pain, no gain.”

“I’m gonna kill you in your sleep, Harls, that’s what you gain.”

*

“Okaaaaay, get ready!” Harley roared and clapped his hands together. “The moment has come! It’s time to see the results!” He swirled Peter around in his chair so that he faced the camera, and thereby Tony on the display, who was eyeing them perturbed.

“What even is this about, Keener?” The man massaged his temples, unsettled by the uproar before him.

“Psshh, old man, you gotta give him time!”

They were still in the living area, and Harley had set up his laptop before them and called up the man to show him what they had worked on. Peter was still gazing at his lap, breath shallow. But Harley and him had trained for this. He could do it, he was sure of it.

“Take your time, Pete,” Harley whispered and put a hand on his shoulder for a split second before it disappeared again, leaving Peter with slight goosebumps. Huh. Probably just the nervousness.

He inhaled and readied himself, and he knew this was more of a fun way to pass the time for Harley, but for him this was actually a challenge. Which he probably made clear in the hour they’d spent training for this.

He risked a glance at his mentor and immediately looked back at his lap. He was being pathetic. It had been some time since the lab nights became movie nights and Tony started asking him about his day and not the project he was working on. They had grown closer since Vulture happened. They weren’t the awkward mess anymore they had been when the billionaire had first shown up in his apartment. Their mentor-mentee relationship had become more trustful, and definitely more casual.

So why couldn’t he just say ‘Tony’ and be done with it? It was no big deal.

“What is it, Peter? Did you get Harley pregnant? Please say no, I can’t handle another baby to take care of—“

“Shut up, da—” He cut himself off.

_Fuck._

His head snapped up and he looked right into Tony’s face that was laced with confusion.

“What did you just say? I didn’t hear you alright,” the man asked, and Peter burst out, “Nothing!” and his brain short-circuited and before he could think it through, he slammed the laptop shut.

Harley exploded with laughter and fell from his chair.

*

“… and this lady literally asked me to take in her golden retriever, standing there without a mask, no space between us, and was like, ‘is it safe for the dog here?’ It’s unbelievable! How ignorant can you be? To ask if it’s safe for their pet but totally ignoring that the staff probably shouldn’t get sick either! Right? Harley?”

Harley jumped. “Oh. Sorry. What were you sayin’?”

Abby huffed. “Were you listening at all to what I was talking about?”

“Uh,” He rubbed at the nape of his neck, feeling bad for first calling his sister and then ignoring her completely. “I’m sorry, Abby, I just zoned out for a bit. Tell me again.”

“Forget it, I’m gonna save my exciting stories for someone that actually cares,” she laughed. “Why are you callin’ me in the middle of the day anyway?”

He sighed. Now he was the one to complain.

“Peter’s working out in the middle of the living room,” he muttered as he fell back onto his bed.

As anticipated, Abby just snorted. “That kinda makes the answer to my question even more interesting.”

“What, you want me to sit quietly next to him when he’s sweating there shirtless? Yeah, no.”

“Exactly. Ogling him a bit won’t hurt. I thought you’d wanna do that anyway.”

Abby had been pretty much teasing him relentlessly during the last days – he didn’t mind it all that much though, it was good to have someone to let off some steam with. Although spending time with Peter was fun and exciting, it was also kind of nerve-wrecking. He was basically nonstop nervous that he’d mess up again if he didn’t pay attention to what he was saying, that he would slip up and do something the younger boy definitely wouldn’t appreciate.

“Well, I gotta get back to work now anyways. But—if you give up and watch Peter a bit please call me up after, I wanna see your shook face.”

“Will do, Abs.”

“Bye, Harls!”

Harley flung his phone to his pillow and just as he was thinking about what he was going to do with himself now, The Voice from Above spoke up into the silence.

He had actually grown fond of FRIDAY – maybe she was **Nr. 6** of his favorite things in the Tower. He almost couldn’t imagine going back home and not having her one prompt away to call someone or ask where Peter was at the moment. (Not taking into account he wouldn’t have Peter around then either.)

“Mr. Keener, would you like to visit the living area? Mr. Parker is making snacks.”

“…okay? Did he ask you to tell me to come?”

“No. I thought It might be in your interest.”

“What? Why?”

“Mr. Parker is currently not wearing any upper garment.”

“What?” He froze and looked up at the ceiling, just to have anything to gape at. “Oh, dammit, FRIDAY!”

Maybe she was just a bit _too_ intelligent for his liking.

“Did Tony tell you about …” He felt his cheeks flush up. Oh man, this was ridiculous. Why did he have to explain to an A.I. system how he felt about Peter?

“No, Mr. Keener." There was almost something like amusement in her voice. "Boss didn’t have to tell me, I can well detect heart rates and hot flashes myself.”

“Oh my god.” Harley put his hands up and walked out of the room. “Never talk to me again.”

He slammed the door shut behind him and then realized that he was an idiot, because FRIDAY could talk to him wherever he was in the Tower and didn’t have to stop just because he stomped out of his bedroom like a toddler. But she apparently didn’t feel the need to embarrass him any further, because who spoke up now definitely wasn’t The Voice from Above.

“Who’s supposed to never speak to you again?”

Peter was standing at the counter, his head turned towards the hallway to look at him. He in fact wasn’t wearing a shirt. For a second Harley closed his eyes, but then he remembered that Peter was indeed still looking at him and opened them again, trying not to look at him as he walked into the kitchen, although his brain was screaming at him to just turn around and go back to his room.

“Oh, just FRIDAY,” Harley responded, trying to think of an explanation. “She’s a bit obnoxious.”

Peter smiled but didn’t inquire any further as he finished up his yogurt with some strawberries.

“Hey, I actually have to tell you about something.” The boy walked around the counter and Harley’s eyes shifted from his face to his chest as he moved. He gulped.

These were full force Spider-Man qualities on display and he definitely wasn’t sure whether he could handle them.

*

Harley seemed to have more interest in the bowl in his hands than the exciting news Peter was about to tell him, and he definitely wasn’t here for that.

“You wanna have one too?” he asked reluctantly and pointed at the yogurt as Harley looked up at his face in confusion.

The older boy blinked for a moment, his cheeks flushed up. “Uh, the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh. No. But thanks.”

“Okay then,” Peter said, glad that he could now move on to his idea. “Well, anyway, what I wanted to tell you. Or more, suggest.” Harley huffed and he quickly continued, “I was thinking of making another attempt at our quarantine goal.”

He still looked on blankly.

“The movie marathon?”

“What? When did that become _our_ quarantine goal?”

“When we failed epically. Come on, Harley, please!” Peter did an attempt at his pleading eyes May disliked so much. She said they were horrible because she couldn’t say no to them. “For me?”

“Well, it isn’t for me certainly,” Harley said, looking away from him.

“We could invite MJ and Ned to join us! And Shuri maybe!”

Harley looked back at him at that. He sighed sufferingly. “Okay,” he grumbled then.

“YES!” Peter exclaimed and threw his arms around the other boy. “Thank you! You won’t regret it!” He hadn’t actually thought that the promise of his friends’ company would have the power to convince him, but here he was.

He didn’t know why, but if he thought about it his yielding in at the proposal was … unsettling? Did Harley only want to spend time with his friends? Or—one friend? Maybe he liked MJ. Or Shuri, he had been quite excited when he heard that they knew her. No, okay, that would be weird. He _had_ told him that they were a couple.

Only then he noticed that Harley had stiffened up in his ecstatic embrace and quickly retracted his arms. “Uh, sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna get myself a shirt.” He chuckled awkwardly and backed out of the living area.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Harley was flushed up again. Maybe Peter should hold back on the touching a bit – he didn’t seem to be the most affectionate type.

“Don’t steal my yogurt!”

“I won’t!”

*

**Harley:** he

**Abby:** were you going to continue this at some point?

**Harley:** oh sorry I got distracted

**Abby:** let me guess

 **Abby:** *insert emoji gazing dreamily into the void*

**Harley:** meanie

 **Harley:** but yeah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what's the most important part of a real movie night?
> 
> cuddling, exactly;)
> 
> also, happy bday tom! yay  
> he's so old already, it's crazy


	9. my second name is gandalf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe you'll notice that I know literally nothing about star wars and therefore avoid any movie-related comments but, y'know, that's not gonna stop me

Peter’s bedroom was a dumping ground. Really, there was no other way to describe it.

But, y’know, at least it wasn’t garbage or day-old meals lying around on the floor, but clothing and papers and notebooks. Two backpacks were also there, as if he needed one as backup.

Peter was already sitting on his bed, nestling inside the blankets and making a little burrow for himself, while Harley was standing at his desk and trying to join his friends’ video chat.

Finally, the three teenagers appeared on the screen and he waved into the camera. “Hiya’ll!”

A girl raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Did he just say ‘hiya’ll’? Why did I agree to this?”

Harley immediately recognized the girl as the princess of Wakanda. Not to say he was a huge superhero fan that knew his part about every hero who fought with the Avengers, but he definitely was.

“He’s okay,” MJ said. “Apart from saying ‘hiya’ll’,” She added and Shuri actually chuckled.

“If you say so.”

“Where are you?” Ned said, as Harley carried the laptop over to the bed and Peter who waved cheerfully.

“Oh, we’re just in my bedroom ‘cause I thought we’ll fall asleep on the spot after the movies anyway, so we could set this up comfy from the start. And the living room is a bit too much space for that.”

“Understandable,” MJ said, an amused edge to her voice which Harley paid off with a very unamused glare. It wasn’t like he had suggested this arrangement, so she had no reason to make fun of him.

Harley had been acting all sulky and bugged the entire afternoon, when actually he didn’t even mind hanging up with Peter’s friends. Apart from that, it had also been impossible to resist the puppy dog eyes he had pulled on him.

“ _Soo_ , who wants to get started?” Peter clapped his hands together in excitement.

“I can’t _wait_ ,” Harley said flatly, while Ned said, “We gotta make it so that the movie’s playing for all of us at the same time!”

*

Out of nowhere, in the middle of the second movie, Peter faced Harley and muttered, “Don’t you think Spider-Man’s a bit of a coward for not going out and helping people like he usually does?”

Harley looked at him, caught off guard by such a serious question. “What?”

Before Peter could elaborate, Shuri burst in, “Hey, what are you whispering about there without us?”

He turned towards the laptop. “Peter just said that Spider-Man’s a coward for not goin’ out to save people at the moment.”

Peter shrugged as his friends gasped in faux exasperation. It was kind of a funny situation, his friends obviously knew, but he wanted to talk about his secret to someone who didn’t, when really, he knew too. Except, Harley didn’t feel like this was something to make fun of, with the way Peter averted his eyes.

He shook his head. “Why—Peter, no. I think it’s really good that he stays safe, it’s wrong to make him feel bad for keepin’ himself healthy. He helps no one if he goes out there and then gets infected.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do. And you should, too.”

When he turned back to face the movie, he saw Shuri pressing her lips together in a I’m-gonna-say-something-I-shouldn’t-if-I-open-my-mouth-now kind of way. Probably MJ had already told her all about him. And Peter. As if there was something like an ‘and’.

*

Ned plumped down on his bed again after he left to get some chips, “What did I miss?”

“Peter just tried to beatbox, I have seen everything now,” Harley muttered, unable to hold back a grin.

“I thought movie marathons were supposed to be about watching movies?”

Harley rolled her eyes at Peter’s persistence, “It’s about spending time with friends and making fun of the movie you’re watching. And you’re the one who started the beatboxing.”

“You’re talking as if you’re the pioneer of movie marathons,” Peter glared at him. “How many did you have already with your friends? I don’t feel like you have a lot of experience.”

Harley chuckled dryly. “I mean, I don’t have a lot of friends back in Tennessee.”

The group went quiet and he realized that sounded a bit … awkward. And pathetic. He felt their gazes burning into him, the pity scorching his pride. (And again, he had made things weird.) (Apparently that special talent not exclusively worked when Peter was involved.)

“But it’s fine, I—I have my sister, and I mostly hang out on my own in my workshop anyways so it isn’t really as if I need some.” He shrugged awkwardly.

For a minute, the only sound in the room was the voice of Leia giving a monologue in the background, until MJ broke the silence.

“I didn’t have any friends really either, before I met these losers,” she said calmly, while the others didn’t even act as if they were offended by the nickname and Peter was smiling softly at his friend as if she had just told them she loved them.

“Me neither,” Ned said, “Peter was the only friend I had, and—it’s not like that isn’t nice,” he added as he saw Peter pouting at him, “but having all of you is really great.”

“Wakanda’s full of chill and smart teenagers,” Shuri said matter-of-factly, “I just pitied you all so much I chose to be your friend.”

As the group burst out into indignant arguments, Harley couldn’t help but break into a grin too. They had weird ways of expressing it but it was palpable how much they all cared about each other.

“I guess what they’re all trying to tell you,” Shuri spoke to him over the voices of her friends, “is that they were all just friendless little beans until they found each other and they wanna have you join them too.”

He laughed as Ned nodded resolutely, “Thank you. I’d like to be a little bean with all of you.”

The conversation died down and soon they were watching the movie again, munching away on their snacks.

Harley almost winced as Peter leaned closer to him, a small bashful smile gracing his lips. “I’m your friend, right?” he said then, quietly, keeping his voice low and the others uninterrupted.

Harley just stared at him for a second, and then he nodded, unable to find the words how amazing and astounding that fact was, that _Peter_ was his _friend_ and how incredibly unsatisfying it was at the same time.

The next hours were spent with playful banter, comments regarding the movies and a strange food fight that didn’t really work since they were just throwing their snacks at their laptop displays and MJ soon shut it down by reminding them that their keypads could get damaged by the little crumbs and this – the nerds that they all were – immediately made them stop.

At about 2 a.m. Peter noticed that Ned hadn’t said anything in quite a long time and all of them stared at the tile on the screen that belonged to him, until Shuri said, “I think we lost him.”

Then, they had to refrain Peter from trying to wake up his sleeping best friend.

“He fell asleep so he’s finished now, those are the rules,” Shuri said indignantly.

“There literally are no rules for this!”

“Just because you never follow rules doesn’t mean we should all ignore them,” MJ tossed in.

It was kind of funny to see the couple teaming up every chance they got to argue with the boys. And they didn’t have a chance against them.

“And since Ned’s out now I think it’s a good time we also say goodbye,” Shuri said.

“What?! You can’t just leave! We’re not done yet!” Peter was staring at them baffled. “It’s literally only one movie anymore!”

“Yeah, I think you’ll manage that without us two.” MJ yawned, and while Peter was apparently too oblivious to see it, Harley could clearly see that it was fake. He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. But since he was just looking straight into the camera for that, he saw Shuri respond to his skepticism with a blatantly obvious wink. Fortunately, Peter was still too busy with complaining to notice.

This circumstance the girls used to wave at them hurriedly and before Peter could get out another splutter the video chat was empty.

“I can’t believe it! We went through _so much_ together to get to this point and now they just give up?” He grumbled and looked at him for a reaction.

“Yeah. Unbelievable.”

“But we’ll watch the last one, right?” There they were again. The puppy dog eyes.

He sighed. “Of course. We’re so close.”

Peter’s face lit up and he sat up straighter. “FRIDAY, would you please put it on?”

As the movie started they leaned back against the headrest again.

When the second scene started, Harley cursed MJ and Shuri under his breath for leaving him alone with a boy who whooped quietly every time a new character came on screen.

When they had made it to the half of the running time, Harley noticed that Peter could hardly keep his eyes open anymore. (Apparently even the master of battling tiredness wasn’t immune to the seduction of soft blankets and a full stomach.)

When another few minutes had passed, Peter’s head dropped onto his shoulder in slow-motion.

Harley was definitely still wide awake, now more than ever.

While Peter was fighting off his tiredness, he reached for his phone to shoot Abby a quick message, tilting the screen just enough so Peter couldn’t see it – not taking into consideration that Peter couldn’t look anywhere with his eyes closed halfway like that anyway.

**Harley:** my second name is self control but this boy is seriously making it hard

**Abby:** if your second name is self control mine is gandalf

He snorted at the immediate reply, but paid attention to not moving so much that the boy on his side would startle up again.

Peter definitely wasn’t an unaffectionate person – he had literally hugged him while he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt – but yet this was somehow different, how his side was leaned against him and his curls were tickling at Harley’s side of the neck. Because this was more conscious, more upfront – at least if he left his drowsiness out of the equation.

When the final battle started Harley slowly moved his head to rest on the younger boy’s curls, hyper-aware of every movement of retreating Peter could make at his motion. But there didn’t come any.

And when the last scene cut to black, Peter took his hand and lifted their clasped ones in the air slightly.

“Woooo, we did it!” He was talking all tired and sleepy and grinned up at him with a childish glee in his eyes. “Harls, we did it!”

“Yeah, we did.” He looked back down at him with a soft smile, almost feeling as happy as Peter was, but for a whole different reason.

Before the credits even started rolling, Peter’s eyes had closed and he dozed off, his head still resting on Harley’s shoulder and their hands entwined. If he could take this moment and put it in a time capsule, to bury it somewhere and dig it up for when he was feeling upset, he would do it.

Harley flinched out of his thoughts as his phone buzzed, his cheeks reddening at the thought of Peter being right next to him while he was imagining these things.

**MJ:** No need to thank us

**Harley:** I wont

 **Harley:** he fell asleep on my arm and its getting numb

Without waiting for her to respond, Harley turned back to the sleeping boy next to him.

He leant in and brushed his curls aside. Without thinking twice (or once really) he planted a soft kiss on the boy’s head, his lips brushing his skin for less than a second.

As he retracted he immediately felt bad for it. Like he had taken something from him he wasn’t allowed to, stealing affection where there wasn’t any.

With a last look at the other boy he settled back into the pillows and allowed his eyes to finally close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some fluff for you all :)
> 
> I actually wrote this as a start of a longer chapter but then it felt like too much? so I split it in two. Which means: you're gonna get part two tomorrow!!  
> wow two updates in a row I really do have a self-destruct mechanism


	10. peanut butter on your face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff part two! (*me pretending not all the chapters I posted until now are fluff*)

When Peter woke up the next morning, the first thing he noticed was the darkness in the room. He turned to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand, baffled that he must have awoken earlier than the sun, and that after the long night him and his friends had had. Or maybe he had slept the entire day? (He had done that once, and only noticed when he walked into the kitchen, Tony shrieked in shock and spilled his coffee all over himself because he thought Peter had left the Tower the day before without saying goodbye.)

But the digits were _11:46_. What? Was there a lunar eclipse or something?

Just when he sat up to get to the bottom of the mystery a sigh was uttered next to him. Oh god, he had completely forgotten about Harley. The boy was still asleep, his hair wildly sticking out from his head and lying on the edge of the bed. Maybe he should have warned him that he needed a lot of space at night, huh?

To avoid that the boy rolled over the edge completely, Peter decided he should wake him up, which led to him hissing “Harley!” in increasingly bolder and therewith louder volume in his ear. When he finally woke up and blinked at Peter, he went through what Peter was from now on definitely calling _the five stages of waking up in someone else’s bed:_ shock, madness at being woken up in the first place, confusion, realization and, last but not least, again confusion.

“Uh, good mornin’?”

He just smiled back at his dazed expression. “Good morning, Harls, though I’m not really sure it’s actually morning. It’s _so_ freaking dark outside as if it’s still night.”

Harley sat up too, his hand raised to rub at his eyes. “Oh, I think I read something about a bad weather front coming up,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep.

“ _That’s_ just bad weather? Okaaay,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

But no, he had to think of it optimistically, _be Peter Parker_ – coziness and hot mugs of cocoa were a definite part of stormy days.

*

He tried, he did, really. But it just seemed as if this storm was out to get him.

On most days, he could handle himself pretty well. He had gotten used to pushing Spider-Man to the back of his mind during the last days, trying not to think about the feeling of dread that came with being locked up and unable to go out and on patrol and help those in need.

But Peter knew what happened when he wasn’t able to help.

Ben happened.

There were people out there who needed his help in many more ways than he could with this stupid idea he had for SI, no matter how much Tony had assured him that it was a grandiose concept. It didn’t feel like enough anymore somehow, as he sat in the living room working out a first scheme for the program, the thick grey clouds looming on the side of his eye, mocking him.

Yes, he knew that he sounded esoteric, and dramatic too, but he just couldn’t help but blame the horrible weather. And that must be pretty obvious, because Harley had actually set down a mug of cocoa with whipped cream and mini marshmallows before him as he was staring out the windows.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asked and slid into the chair across from him. “Is it because of the movie marathon? Maybe we could ask the others to have another try at it together.” There was a comforting but also slightly worried half-smile on his face and Peter looked at him slightly surprised. These were big words from him, considering he had been the one most annoyed by the activity and also the only one besides himself who had actually succeeded.

“No, it’s not about that,” he trailed off. He was staring out the windows again, his thoughts going back and forth between Ben and May, who was still on duty at the hospital, saving lives, and Ben and May, and Ben again.

He hated these days. When everything felt a bit too much, and a bit too sad, and he felt a little too tired of everything.

“What is it then?” Harley leaned forward, waiting for him to respond. Peter squirmed under the attention, and he quickly stood up from his chair and walked over to the glass walls overlooking the city beneath them, his back turned on the waiting boy.

“It’s just—I don’t know,” he started, not quite sure yet how he was supposed to explain what guilt he was feeling to someone who didn’t know about his secret.

“I want to… I want to go out there and – help, and make people feel better, but I can’t. People need help in these times, and I’m not able to give it to them right now. And I—I think I just wished there was a way I could do everything I’ve been doing before the same way now. I feel so—so useless.”

Harley probably didn’t get half of what he was saying, but yet he nodded along quietly as if he knew exactly what his cryptic rambling was supposed to mean, just listening to him complain and that made Peter so thankful he would like to hug him really tightly. But no, he had said to hold back on the touching, so be it.

“Sometimes, I forget what’s even going on out there.” Harley said.

Peter turned to him, his anxious thoughts disrupted.

“Like, people are out there every day, risking their fucking lives to save others. And protect us. And sometimes … sometimes I just forget what is even wrong and that’s so – unbelievably ignorant,” he was looking down at his hands clasped together on the tabletop, not looking up at Peter who was gazing at him intently. “It’s messed up.”

Then he looked up, his bright blue eyes giving him undivided attention. “You aren’t useless, Peter. Just—look at what you’re doing for the people in need out there in this exact second!” He gestured to the papers spread on the table and then finally locked eyes with him again.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed for staying safe.”

Now he was the one to advert his eyes. He knew that that’s what May would say too, and Pepper, and even Tony and maybe most importantly, Ben would too.

But he still felt this guilt of holing up in the penthouse while others were suffering so much worse.

“I guess.”

Now Harley’s blue eyes were sizing him up, the way he was sitting there leaned against the windows like a sad puddle of mud. Then he jumped to his feet.

“C’mon.” Harley walked over to the windows and offered him his hand. After eyeing him warily for about a minute with a skeptical glance, Peter took it and let Harley hoist him to his feet.

Before Peter could ask what he was planning, Harley spoke up, “FRIDAY, put on _When I Dance with You_ by The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart.” He rolled up his sleeves and shook his legs out a bit. _What was he doing?_

“Max volume.”

Peter frowned as the boy kept his eyes on the floor, stretching his legs as if he was getting ready for a marathon.

The music started up, something upbeat, casual, pop-like but indie-spirited.

_When I dance with you, I feel okay, feel okay_

_‘Cause I know just what to do_

When the singer began to sing, Harley started to bounce lightly on his feet, his arms swinging around his body. Peter stared. _Was he … going to dance?_ _Now? Here, in front of him?_

He’d like to think he had gotten to know the older boy pretty well during the last days — he knew Harley couldn’t go an hour in the morning without a coffee and he saw how Harley came _so_ close to falling asleep on the worktable if they went a minute over his usual curfew, he knew that he hated his dad and for some reason adored Scooby Doo.

But yet, what Peter wouldn’t have ever expected about Harley was … this.

_You get so down_

_I try to comfort_

_Sometimes words, they don’t do anything much at all_

Harley was jumping from one foot to the other now and then he lifted his arms above his head, and Peter’s jaw almost dropped to the floor as he let his left arm fall again and pointed it directly at Peter.

He was still standing next to the windows, completely clueless as to what he was supposed to do, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides as Harley came closer and took his hands up in his and tugged at him to move. Peter let him nudge him over to the free space between the table and the windows, trying to ignore the way he stiffened at the touch.

This wasn’t actually happening, was it? Peter felt as if he had missed the moment they went from having a pitiful self-help group meeting at the windows to dancing in the middle of the living area. Not that he was dancing. Peter didn’t dance. At least not in front of Harley.

The older boy was looking at him with a kind of crazy look on his face, that clearly said something like, _If you let me dance on my own for one more second, I’m going to put on something by Justin Bieber,_ and then Peter was jumping on his feet a teeny tiny bit too and tried to get his arms to unstick from his sides, and Harley’s face immediately lit up in excitement. He let go of him again and began flinging his arms around and throwing up his legs by turns.

Harley couldn’t dance. Not at all. He jumped up and down as if he was on a trampoline, flinging his arms around his body as if they were the wings of a helicopter. His blond hair was flying around his head and longer strands were sticking to his lips and his feet were never touching the floor for more than a second.

_When I dance with you_

_Everyone else, anyone else_

_Just lies out of view_

It was messy and ridiculous and somehow the best thing Peter had ever seen.

_And when I dance with you_

_I feel just like, feel just like_

_There’s nothing I can do_

_But move the way you move_

And then Peter was dancing too, and he knew it must look even more ridiculous than whatever it was what Harley was doing, and god, he hoped Tony wouldn’t see this, and then maybe it also didn’t matter, because this was just Harley and him, and they were breathless and smiling and dancing like they didn’t care for anything at all.

_I feel ok, feel ok_

_I feel ok, feel ok_

_When I dance with you_

As the lyrics came on again, Harley started to sing along, and of course the boy could also sing, even when he was jumping around like a madman, and it wasn’t long until Peter was yelling the words too, and he definitely could not sing, but somehow they were a tiny bit true.

_Yeah I feel ok, feel ok_

_I feel ok, feel ok_

_When I dance with you_

Harley was laughing at him as he started to rotate on the spot, his arms wide outstretched and feet moving fast. He grasped Harley’s hands and then they were both rotating, leaning back a bit, before they came to a halt and started jumping again, their hands still connected and bodies moving fast to the beat of the song.

Then, too soon, and maybe at the exact right time, the music faded from the room and Harley let himself fall back to the floor and sent Peter down with him. They were panting, both of them. Maybe his enhanced powers didn’t work with dancing.

Peter looked over at the breathless boy beside him and thought that maybe he liked the Unexpected Harley.

*

Harley thought he might just kiss him right there on the floor of the penthouse, the same magnetic pull as the one he felt that first day they had met making him want to roll over on his stomach and take his face up in his hands and kiss the wide grin that he was wearing now and mess up his curls even more than they already were if that was even possible.

*

Harley was looking at him too, his face flushed up and hair messed up so badly it probably couldn’t get any worse. Peter’s grin widened, and as the other boy rolled over on his stomach and propped himself up on one elbow, still looking right at him, he pointed a finger up at his cheek and laughed, “You’ve got peanut butter on your face!”

Harley stopped in his motion and stared at him for a second, before he reacted and reached up to his cheek to wipe the goo away.

Then he broke into a shaky laugh, probably embarrassed because he must have been running around with the butter on his face the entire morning and Peter joined in, and it was as if he was letting everything out, the tension slipping away fully. As they both calmed down again, they looked at each other again and suddenly Peter had to burst into laughter again, at the ridiculousness of the entire scene and how it obscurely _did_ make him feel better, “So, no country music boy?” he gasped out, and probably Harley didn’t even know what he meant, but he joined in again too, shaking his head vehemently, and soon they were holding their sides from laughing so hard.

“Thank you, Harls.”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want someone to dance with me like a madman in the living room when I'm sad


	11. but then, a miracle happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this had the length of two usual chapters, so I split it again, I won't ever learn I'm sorry. you won't really mind though, right?

“Wait. How much flour was it? Five hundred li—uh, grams?”

“Did you just want to say five hundred liters?”

“What? Nooo.”

“Peter. My god, this is no rocket science!”

“I wish it was.”

Abby sighed and massaged her temples. “It’s just a cake!”

“Well, Harley’s the cook in this household.” Peter threw up his hands in defense.

“Making a _cake_ is no _cooking_ , Peter, so that’s not even _close_ to a valid argument on why you fail to bake one following such a simple receipt. You’ve gotta do nothin’ more than measuring and dumping in the mixing bowl.”

“You’re going to wake him up if you talk just a little bit louder,” Peter countered sheepishly.

“We both know that he sleeps like a drunk sailor.”

He narrowed his eyes at her with a half-smirk on his lips. “A drunk sailor? What kind of analogy is that?”

“A great one,” she declared, “now, add five hundred grams of flour.”

“That’s _exactly_ what I said! I’m a genius!”

Peter had been up since four a.m. and if you asked Abby, it showed. She had joined him via video call at seven, and at that point he had already managed to almost set the kitchen on fire when he tried to preheat the oven and slipped on a chunk of melted butter. At least _those_ were the incidents that he had told her about. Admirable though was the fact that he was still pretty energetic and wasn’t stopped by these remarkable obstacles.

To be honest, Abby was a bit nervous about how Harley would react to the whole thing—but she didn’t need to let Peter know that. Nope, definitely not. He was agitated for a whole lot of others reasons right now. At the moment, he was trying to mix all the ingredients together he had finally dumped into the mixing bowl and she had to admit she had a really bad feeling about Peter Parker plus electronic kitchen utensils.

So, before anything could blow up, Abby suggested, “How about you just order a cake?”

Peter looked up at her, his apron covered in spatters from top to bottom, and it was as if a light bulb was lighting up above his head. She snorted.

“ _Yes._ Yes! I’m going to do that.”

He grabbed the laptop and for a minute she could only see the bold letters on his shirt saying _All the good chemistry jokes Argon? I don’t Zinc so!_ , before he set it down again and bended down to look in the camera. “Okay, I’m gonna call someone for the cake and clean up the kitchen, and you can enjoy the view while I’m gone, alright?”

She nodded and when his big goofy grin disappeared from the display, he revealed the most amazing view Abby had ever seen. Not that that was really saying anything – she had to admit that she hadn’t really seen anything exciting in her life yet – but this view was a _pretty_ good start.

It was raining outside (the bad weather hadn’t stopped for two days as Peter had complained to her) and the buildings that probably were gigantic when looking up at them from the street seemed small from the floor they were in. A bit of a dystopian vibe, with all the buildings in sight being completely dark except for a few lit up windows in the top floors. Stark Tower probably was a kindred addition to that picture.

After taking in the unfamiliar sight for some minutes, her phone buzzed next to her on the desk.

**Harley:** i just had the weirdest dream

She grimaced. “Peter?” she called out alarmed. As doubtful as she was, she still didn’t want the whole surprise to be a shitshow, and that included not having him walk in on Peter taking delivery of a bought cake. But the room remained silent.

**Harley:** peter and i were ice skating? and you were there too

 **Harley:** but you werent skating you were operating this big snow machine

 **Harley:** and we already were completely covered in snow but u werent turning it off and instead just cackling like a maniac

Abby cackled like a maniac for a few seconds before she recollected herself and quickly sent back a message.

**Abby:** just ignoring all of that

 **Abby:** and wishing you a happy birthdaaay!!

She opened the chat with Peter to send him a warning that Harley was up earlier than they thought, but right then another message popped up.

**Harley:** thanks

 **Harley:** think i’m gonna go to the lab a bit

 **Harley:** treat myself yknow

She exhaled, glad that he wasn’t going to bust the preparations, and replied swiftly.

**Abby:** have fun

At the same time, these messages just highlighted the risk they were taking with this whole ordeal. Harley wasn’t exactly the person who liked surprises. And he also didn’t really like his birthday. Great conditions for a birthday surprise, right?

But when Abby had seen the glee in Peter’s eyes as she told him what special date the following date was, she couldn’t just tell him to let it go. And when his expression went all sad and aghast when he realized he was the only one around for Harley’s birthday she couldn’t just say she wouldn’t help him, could she? No, she could not.

That was not to say she wasn’t still rather wary of her brother’s reaction.

But fortunately, Peter didn’t know about that as he came into view again and ran in and out of the laptop webcam’s view, ordering a cake and even throwing in the name Tony Stark to make sure it would be there fast. It was endearing to see the boy put so much effort into it all. Her smile dipped a bit. Because at the same time, she wasn’t sure whether she liked that.

Harley was head over heels for this boy. She would know best, as he’d been spamming her with lovesick message chains for days on end. But the really bad thing was that Peter didn’t seem to notice anything about it. He had copied off of her and now called him ‘Harls’ whenever he got the chance and he was bolting out of bed in the middle of the night to make sure he got the best birthday surprise possible under the circumstances – and yet Harley was still sending love _sick_ messages instead of love _struck_ ones. 

She wasn't sure whether that made sense, but, anyways, she just didn’t want her brother to end up hurt because this boy he adored was oblivious to his feelings, or, even worse, didn’t return them.

But whatever those two were up to, it wasn’t in her possibility space to change anything about that. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back in her chair and grabbed her phone to check out Instagram, until Peter made his way back to the laptop.

“Okay, okay, he’s coming,” Peter whispered, looking not at her but probably the hallway that led to the lab.

“Is everything ready?” she questioned under her breath.

Peter gave her the thumbs up in confirmation.

It was quiet for a minute and Abby wondered what Peter had heard to come to the conclusion that Harley was on his way – woah, probably this sixth sense thing he had going on – but then Peter hoisted up the laptop and turned it towards where he’d been looking and Abby saw her brother making his way into the room. He was still dressed in his pajama pants and a t-shirt and his hair was a mess, as always. So that’s how comfortable he was with Peter already, interesting.

Just one step in, two confetti guns went off on both sides of the door, and she had to giggle as he jumped into the air at the loud bang. “What the—“

Then he discovered Peter and her laughing at him on the laptop, standing in the middle of the room decorated with party streamers, fairy lights and buntings, and winced again. “What—“

“ _Happy Birthday!_ ” Peter called out and Abby waved while she held back another burst of laughter as he stared at them in bewilderment.

Peter didn’t even leave him any time to utter dismissal or disapproval, he just walked over and nudged him to the counter, set down the laptop so Abby could see them, and presented the small cake that had arrived just minutes before, jazz fingers and everything.

“A cake!” he stated the obvious.

“You…” Harley stared at it for a second, then at Peter, Abby, the decorated room, back at Peter, “did this… all for me?”

“Of course! It’s your birthday, dummy,” Peter said, an amused smile crossing his face. “Your eighteenth even!”

Harley’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, but he was smiling too. “Of course. How dare I scrutinize a birthday surprise?”

The mini cake was faster gone than the candles on top of it could even start properly melting, which definitely had its reason in Peter’s seemingly voracious appetite. While Abby told Peter embarrassing stories about Harley, like that phase of six months his outfit only switched between two t-shirts with dinosaur print, and Harley buried his head so deep in his hands she almost pitied him. Almost.

“And that one time you carried this toy Mjölnir everywhere with you and told people you were worthy! And then when this teacher asked you what you thought being worthy meant, you declared ‘it means I can rule Arizona’ because you messed it up with Asgard!”

Peter almost fell from his chair from laughing so hard and Harley glared at him, but it transformed into a fond smile so fast Abby couldn’t help but worry even more.

*

About two hours later, after they had finished eating and Abby had told them she still had a lot of stuff to do (very ominously, but that’s beside the point), Peter and him got ready for the day.

Harley chose to wear a shirt and well-fitting jeans for the day instead of his usual hoodie and sweatpants look. (He couldn’t care less about his birthday, but apparently Peter did and was going to give him all of his attention today.) (He might as well look decent for him.)

A few minutes later, Peter knocked on his door. Harley opened up and saw Peter size up his outfit for a second before he looked back at his face with this adorable tight-lipped smile.

“Ready?”

Harley raised a brow. “Not sure. What for?”

Peter grinned and took his hand – Harley almost fainted – and pulled him along the hallway, until they were standing in front of the lab.

“Okay. So, I didn’t really know what to get you—“

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“—but _then_ I thought about how you’re such a fan of Spider-Man, right?”

Harley closed his mouth from complaining. “Uhuh?”

“And I decided to ask Spidey for a favor. I asked him whether it would be possible to let my very good friend Harley have some time alone with his suit to tinker with it.”

Harley stared at Peter for a minute, his eyes wide. “What?! Really?”

He nodded, and opened the door for both of them. “I mean, I already let you work on some tech I made for him, but the suit—“

“Thank you,” Harley said, stopping him from trying to explain his gift. “That’s amazing.”

And it really was, although he knew the asking-for-a-favor thing was bullshit and not that much of a big deal Peter made it seem like. He was dallying over the suit since the day he’d gotten to see it in the lab, but never had the guts to intrude when Peter was working on his suit. And it meant that Peter trusted him with his beloved suit.

Peter seemed relieved by his approval and led him to the worktable the suit was stationed. And before he knew it, Harley was fully immersed in the coding, wiring, and especially the A.I., whose name Peter sheepishly told him was Karen.

Sometimes he would ask Peter something or tell him about an idea he had to have him approve of it, while Peter was sitting across from him on his laptop, periodically reading out funny stuff he read or watched.

“Oh my god, look,” Peter turned the laptop so Harley could see. “They’re doing a prayer service, and the pastor is standing on the load area of a truck, and all the people are sitting in their cars as if it’s a drive-in!”

Harley leant over the table to watch the video. “That would totally happen in Rose Hill.”

*

**Tony:** Happy birthday, kid. Call when you’re free?

**Harley:** uuuh is it about…….

 **Harley:** you know

 **Harley:** the thing?

**Tony:** The thing? What thing?

**Harley:** well this thing you wanted to talk to me about

**Tony:** Oh, no. Pepper and Morgan just want to see and congratulate you and so on.

**Harley:** oh ok

 **Harley:** cool cool

*

Peter chuckled. “These two teenagers went on a date in these plastic orbs! That’s so smart. Aww, look, he has flowers for her!”

“But how’s she supposed to get the flowers when he has them inside of the ball with him?”

Peter looked up from the video to look at Harley. He snorted when Peter put on his thinking face, before he tilted his head and returned his eyes to the screen, narrowing them as he watched it again. A minute later he grumbled, his lips pressed together sulkily and muttered, “Buzzkill.”

*

“Do you wanna hear something funny?”

Harley chuckled, “Why are you asking now? You’ve been doin’ that for about an hour.”

Peter threw him a blank expression and then questioned again, “Do you?”

He shook his head slightly and gestured to the laptop. “Sure. Tell me something funny.”

Peter straightened in his seat and looked at him intently. “Quarantine,” he said.

He waited a minute to see whether there was a punchline, but he just kept on looking at him like that as if there was something he didn’t get. “What’s so funny about that?”

Peter broke into a grin, “Oh, you wouldn’t get it. It’s an inside joke.”

*

**MJ:** Happy birthday

**Harley:** thank

*

Peter hadn’t told him a joke or ridiculous story for about ten minutes and slowly Harley began to worry. He had hoped that his damped mood would’ve improved with the distraction of the day, but his recurring staring out at the grey sky denied that hope. He’d been like that for the last couple of days, sometimes seemingly spacing out and completely forgetting about what he was working on and Harley just didn’t know what to do to help him. He hated it.

“Pete? Ya alright?”

“What?” Startled, Peter unglued his eyes from staring blankly out the windows and looked back at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Maybe you could use some jokes a lot better than me,” Harley said.

“I’m fine,” Peter repeated. “Hey, what movie do you wanna watch today? I chose so often already.”

He gave him another concerned look and then shrugged. “Dunno … a classic?”

“A classic in the sense of ‘The silence of the lambs’ or Harry Potter?”

“Uuh, Harry Potter? But not Harry Potter, just the category. Maybe … Lord of the Rings?”

Peter made a face. “Really?”

“What, you don’t like them?”

“Well, yeah. Just because someone’s a nerd doesn’t mean they automatically like Lord of the Rings. That’s pretty much a stereotype,” Peter declared.

“Well,” Harley bit back a grin, “I’m a nerd and I like it.”

*

Although Harley assured about a thousand times that they didn’t have to watch it if he didn’t like it, Peter insisted on fulfilling his random movie choice. They were lying in Peter’s bed again when they watched the second movie which Harley had decidedly declared to be the best one.

Apparently, Peter wasn’t as tired as he had been the last time, because his head was still firmly leant against the headrest and not lying on his shoulder. He wouldn’t mind him being a little sleepier.

Because he would really like to close the space between them.

You know what? It was his eighteenth birthday! He wasn’t a child anymore, he was supposed to be more courageous and self-confident now, right? He shouldn’t be flushing up when just thinking about cozying up.

So before he could talk himself out of it again, he began to lift his arm and placed it on the smaller boy’s shoulders.

He regretted it immediately. _Oh god, oh god, this was a bad idea._ He felt himself stiffen up at the touch and grimaced as he realized that there was still a few centimeters space between them, so that his arm wasn’t hugging Peter closer to him like he had planned but rigidly connecting their shoulders, as if they were at a football game and hyping each other up by grasping the other’s shoulder.

He was quite certain that only a few seconds had passed since he made that idiotic move, but to him it felt like days had passed while his arm was there on Peter’s shoulder and the space between them didn’t feel like centimeters but much more like miles and miles of dread. He couldn't just take it away again now, right? _Why did he always have to be such an imbecile around him? Why couldn’t he act like everyone else when they have feelings for someone and be—_

But then, a miracle happened.

Peter turned his body towards him slightly and closed the space between them so that his thigh was pressed against Harley’s and then he let his head drop to his shoulder. Everything happened in one fluid motion and for a minute he wondered whether it had actually happened, but Peter was really there, because his curls were tickling his neck again.

Slowly, he tightened his arm around the boy and tried to unnoticeably relax his body again, which was kind of hard, considering Peter was directly beside him. And then they were lying there and Harley thought Peter must hear his heart beating so fast and loud that it was, and well, that wasn’t even unlikely for all that he knew.

“Hey, uhm,” Peter cleared his throat audibly and Harley’s head whipped to him. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about something,” he said quietly.

_Oh no, no, no, no._ He had been too obvious. The arm, then his heart beating so loud – what was Peter thinking? Harley’s heart rate spiked up again as if his own body was trying to send him to his doom. “It’s not – something bad, or so, or— I don’t know, it’s just something I’ve been wondering about quite some time now.”

Harley saw his life flash before his eyes.

“When you had just arrived Mr. Stark said something about how I shouldn’t ask about your father and then we would get along great,” Peter said and he exhaled, relief flooding his body. “And I mean, that’s true, we get along well, but I still … wanted to know what he meant by that? You don’t have to—“

“It’s alright,” he intervened, half glad that it wasn’t about what he thought it was about, and half confused by the unexpected topic. “Well, Tony just said that because it’s this inside joke between us. When we met because of that Mandarin thing back then I was … kinda petty towards him, always talkin' about how my father left us when I was four years old and how he was goin’ to disappear just like he did.” He chuckled at the memory and how pathetic he had been, telling everyone that asked and even everyone else who didn’t his oh so clever story about the scratchers and how he had apparently won because he didn’t return.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Peter said. Out of nowhere, Harley felt cold fingers brush his hand that was lying on his stomach. Peter slowly began to draw whorls on Harley’s back of his hand. He wasn’t sure if Peter even paid mind to what he was doing but the touch still sent goosebumps all over his body.

“And what’s about your mother? Did she raise you on her own?”

Harley was caught off guard by the question and took some time to reply, and when he did it was matter-of-factly. “Yeah, she did. She was trying her best I guess.”

“Sounds great.”

“Well, ‘her best’ wasn’t exactly great.” He chuckled dryly, but he could tell that he’d been a bit harsh by the way Peter stopped the motions on his hand and looked up at his face. “I mean, she wants us to stay safe and she cares about us, and I love her, I do, but she never really—It’s like she’s never really … _there_.” He shook his head. “I think she never really wanted to have kids. And if my father hadn’t left us she would have,” he said, trying his best to put some distance between himself and those words, as if they didn’t affect him.

“I’m sorry, Harley.”

“No need to be. Not your fault.”

Peter picked up on the drawing again, but he snuffled a bit, and Harley could tell that he felt sorry for even bringing it up.

“Oh no, darlin’, don’t get all pitiful with me now. Really.”

“I’m sorry. You know, I—I get it, when my parents—wait, no, sorry, forget about it.” He shook his head. “That’s just my childhood drama, not important,” he said, trying to make his voice sound lighter that he actually felt.

“No, no, it’s fine. Tell me.”

Peter looked down and apparently now for the first time noticed what his hands were doing and quickly retracted them back to his lap. “I don’t even know. Well, you know about how my parents died and then … my uncle Ben.” Harley nodded.

“I always used to feel like I was this burden for Aunt May, ‘cause, y’know, she didn’t ask to have me with her and she wanted to do so much in her life and with me there that just wasn’t possible anymore. But she never actually made me feel like I was a burden. She always cared for me like a mother and …” Peter blinked and Harley instinctively hugged him closer to himself. “Now that she’s not around everything just seems so much harder and exhausting. I don’t know. I know that sounds really awkward, but I feel like everything’s got so much worse since this damn storm arrived, like it’s brought all those worries down again. But—sorry, that’s not what I wanted to say …" Peter shook his head. "I meant that … maybe you just _feel_ like you’re this burden for your mother, and she doesn’t feel like that about you at all. Maybe she’s just not that good at showing her love.”

Harley pondered his words for a minute. “Maybe you’re right.” He didn’t know whether he was, but it definitely felt better to think about his mother like that than the way he usually did.

“Sorry for bringing all of this up on your birthday,” Peter said quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said. He had almost forgotten about that.

“Hey, by the way, it’s stopped raining like an hour ago.”

“What?” Peter’s head whipped to the windows, but of course he couldn’t see anything since it was pitch-dark outside. “Huh.”

“Sooo, that means your mood is automatically better now?” Harley chuckled.

Peter shoved his leg with his playfully. “No, that would be weird. But,” he detached his head from Harley’s shoulder and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and Harley shivered from the cold that now reached the side Peter had been pressed against, “that means we can do what I’ve been wanting to do for days.”

For a second, his mind slipped to things Peter definitely did _not_ allude to with that statement, and he quickly asked, “What do you mean?” before he could imagine anything more. “Wait, wha—Where are you goin’?” he added as Peter jumped up. Without answering, he offered him his hand and pulled Harley to his feet.

“C’mon!”


	12. now wish for something, you moron

“We shouldn’t be up here, should we?” Harley whispered as they stepped out of the elevator at the highest level it went to.

“No, no, we shouldn’t,” Peter answered, but it didn’t seem as if he was worried about that fact all that much. “However,” he pushed open a door that led to a small staircase which they then began to climb, “it’s your birthday, so nothing applies!”

And then he opened another door, and Harley almost hissed when suddenly deathly cold was gripping him. The transition from the warmth and coziness of Peter's room was incredible. The roof was completely devoid of any canopies or seating possibilities and the only light came from a few dampened lanterns at the edge of the roof. Why didn't Tony make this into a huge rooftop terrace for galas and events? This was almost too good of a setting to miss that chance, if he had to decide. Maybe it was too cold up here for anything like that.

“I think this may be a bit optimistic,” Harley quivered. “It’s too cold for whatever we’re supposed to do up here anyway.”

Peter stopped in his tracks and turned back to him. “Oh right, wait here a minute!” And then he rushed past him back down the stairs. When he came back, he passed Harley a bundle of blankets, an energetic smile on his lips.

“Will this be of sufficiency, my lord?”

“That's a horrible British accent,” he lied. “Well, I still don’t know what we’re supposed to do here," he chuckled. “It's not like there’s much of a view.” He gestured to the sides where the tall buildings were tinted in darkness.

“Maybe ...” He raised his hand to Harley’s chin and tilted his head upwards to the sky, “... you’re just not looking at the right one,” Peter said.

*

Harley found he had made progress.

He didn’t feel like this nervous wreck anymore _every_ time they talked. And this voice that had aggressively told him to shut up and ponder his every word when talking to him, it had _almost_ disappeared. (Only when he did especially stupid (or in that case in the end genius) things like slinging his arm around Peter, it came forward to haunt him and remind him of his past mistakes.)

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t flushing up whenever Peter touched him or that his heart didn’t speed up like a rollercoaster going down after an elevation when he would laugh about something Harley had said – no, it simply meant that he had given up on trying to push his feelings away.

Because there was just no denying it.

Harley had a crush on a boy with brown curls and chocolate eyes, with a smile on his lips that made him want to kiss and copy it onto his own. A boy who was so smart that it made him wonder why he hadn’t taken over SI already, or the world. Who was soft and funny and oblivious, oh so _unbelievably_ oblivious to everything that was going on in the head of the boy _right_ beside him. A boy who was a superhero, who had fought battles Harley had no idea of and who was willing to do whatever was in his might to save the ones that needed him.

He had a crush on Peter Parker. And he had never had a crush like that.

And maybe it was even a little more than that.

Remember the bucket he had wanted to shove his feelings into and then bury deep, deep down inside of himself? Yeah well, change of plans.

Fuck the bucket.

*

“I really don’t think we’ll see any.” Peter looked at him offended and Harley quickly elaborated before he could start to pout. “There’s just too much light in the city for that. In Rose Hill, you can’t look up at night and _not_ see any.”

“I do think that’s a _bit_ exaggerated,” Peter said.

They were leaned against the edge of the roof, knees pressed up to their chests and heads facing the sky. Both of them were buried in about half a dozen blankets and Harley almost wasn’t cold anymore.

“Ugh, my neck,” he groaned. “That’s about the most uncomfortable position ever.”

“Well, it’s for a good cause,” Peter countered.

And maybe it was, but the arrival of that cause was rather questionable, if you were to ask Harley. He was barely able to make out stars, let alone stars swishing past them at the speed of light. They had been sitting there for about fifteen minutes and Peter had dimmed the lights even further, but that didn’t make the situation much— _wait._

“Oh my god, I think I just saw one!” he exclaimed, and really, it was just a glimpse, but it definitely was one.

“Really?! Yay! I knew it was possible!” Peter threw his hands up in the air but then buried them in the blankets again just as fast, as the cold hit him. “You did it!”

Harley saw Peter looking at him excitedly, although his features were mostly hidden by the darkness.

“Wish for something, Pete.”

There was a pause before Peter replied. “What?” he said perplexed. “No, you've got a wish, it’s your star.”

“Well, I gift it to you.”

Peter laughed, “But it’s _your_ birthday! _I’m_ supposed to gift you something.”

“You already gave me enough today,” Harley smiled, thinking of the cake, and the jokes, and the suit. “See it as a thank you for making my birthday so amazing. I didn't think that was possible.”

Peter shook his head, but when he spoke he could hear a smile in his words. “That’s not how this works though! You can’t just give away your star!”

“I can and I will,” Harley declared, “now wish for something, you moron.”

Peter shook his head at him, but Harley could feel that it was the amused kind and not the negating, and then he muttered, “If you insist, birthday boy.”

“I do.”

Then, a silence followed. Harley watched him, and although he was not able to see him properly, he was pretty sure Peter had closed his eyes, true rite-fashion.

He chuckled, obviously done with his wish. “That doesn’t make any sense, Harley.” he said quietly, now turning to look out on the city. Harley was sure he knew what his wish had been. Of course – how could it be different – Peter would not try to improve _his_ life only with a wish he’d been given, no, he would use it for his aunt, or all the people out there who needed help. Would he be Peter Parker if he didn’t?

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Harley began to tell him about the video call with Tony, Pepper and Morgan, and how the little girl had drawn a picture for him that showed her parents, her, Peter and himself all standing under a big sign saying _Welcome to_ _New York!_ in bold sparkly letters. But the element of the drawing she had pointed out to him wasn't that, but the fact that they were all wearing face masks of course. 

Peter then proceeded to tell him about the first time he had had to babysit her and managed to spill the raspberry-smoothies he had made for them all over both of them, just a few minutes before Pepper and Tony returned from their important gala thing. This resulted in both Pepper and Tony exclaiming shrieks of shock as they spotted them in the kitchen, where Peter was calmly cleaning the girl’s face and asking them why they were panicking, while Morgan just giggled because she seemed to understand the significance of the big splatters of red liquid on their clothes pretty well.

When they had both calmed down from laughing, Harley muttered, “I don’t think I could do that. Babysitting children.” He shrugged. “Too much responsibility. And I’m not that great with kids.”

Peter shrugged. “You learn over time. Kids are amazing, they tell you what they think of you the second they form an opinion about you. Or, at least that’s what Morgan’s like,” Peter chuckled. “When I first met her, she was like, ‘you talk really much’ and that was that.”

“That’s not really an argument favoring them if you ask me - I don’t wanna know what someone thinks of me.”

Well, he would make one exception there.

“Hey, we could babysit Morgan together when all of this - I mean, only if you'd like to— _ooh my god,_ Harls! I saw one!” Peter excitedly pointed at the sky. “Look!”

Of course, the star was long gone when Harley looked up, but that didn’t mean he was happy any less. “Now we’ve both seen one!”

“Right, now you get my wish!”

Harley began to shake his head, saying, “I don’t even know what I want,” but Peter didn’t take it.

“We’d be even, then!”

“How about … we both wish for something? We share the power of the star?”

Peter seemed to mull over the proposition in his head, and then he nodded, “Fine. Sharing is fine.”

“Wait! How about,” he started, “you are selfish for that one.”

Harley couldn’t see it, but he was sure Peter was furrowing his brows in that moment. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean … what do _you_ want? Don’t think about what’s going on out there right now, just about … yourself. Only what you want.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Then there was silence between them, and yes, Harley tried to wish for something important, something that mattered to more people than only himself, but before he could form a coherent wish in his head, Peter nudged him with his elbow.

“Ready?”

He looked at him and well, there went his world-changing visions. He couldn't even see his soft curls and soft smile there in the darkness, and still Peter was making his heart beat faster just by looking at him.

“Mhm,” he nodded mindlessly. How could he ever wish for something else than this boy before him?

He was pretty sure Peter was still looking at him. Harley thought he would _really_ like to know what his selfish wish had been, because he couldn’t see the boy’s expression, but for a second he thought that Peter was leaning in closer to him. He didn't dare to look away.

Maybe he wanted to put his head on his shoulder again? Maybe—

"I would really like to ..." he started.

But Peter's soft voice faded and Harley almost burst out, "What? What would you like to do?" but then he felt Peter’s breath brush his skin and then he was leaning in too, and he didn’t even care what his wish had been, and if it had been about him, because, _oh my god,_ this was going to happen and he thought he heard Peter’s breath hitch as they were getting even closer, as if this time they were both being pulled towards each other, and then— _buzz!_

They flinched away from each other. Peter was staring at his arm confusedly where his watch was buzzing incessantly. “I—”

“Mr. Parker,” FRIDAY’s voice came out of the device, sounding stern and hasty, “Boss strongly advises you to _immediately_ ex—” FRIDAY’s voice broke off and the watch stopped buzzing at once.

They stared at it for a second. “What the hell?”

Peter jumped to his feet and bended over the edge of the roof, and Harley yelped, thinking he was going to fall over, but Peter came upward again, “The lights are out.” he said. “But we left them on in my room didn't we? Harley? Whatis going on? That was a warning, right? What FRIDAY said that Tony told her?”

Harley felt his body shiver as he stood up too and shook his head perplexed.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback means a lot :)


	13. the line of fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been posting chapters here for some time now, but every time I do it still feels like sending out a risky text or so and with this one it's especially so. I tried to make this as little cliché as possible please tell me how that worked out
> 
> also, so so sorry for the late update but I've been struggling a bit with life these last days and I really wanted to get this right so ... yeah. hope it's worth the wait:)
> 
> and again, there's a second part of this chapter................tomorrow

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

Peter was ripped out of his much too fast going thoughts and looked at Harley for a second, who was standing there with the blankets still in his hands, an expression on his face that looked as if he’d just awoken from a nightmare.

He would say this was funny, that Harley Keener was quoting the Star Wars saga in a moment of panic, but somehow his brain wasn’t all that ready to find something laughable right then, in that moment of panic, so he just said, “Me too,” and inhaled shakily.

“We’ve got to …”

“Go in,” Harley ended his sentence for him and nodded. “Let’s go.”

And then he was already starting towards the exit, the blankets still clutched to his chest, and Peter had to stare at him for a moment before he shook his head and ran to catch up with him.

His head was full with thoughts when they reached the door and Harley was flinging it open. There was Harley, looking at him with glistening eyes, and there were blankets and shared wishes, and then there was the small staircase they were scudding down, and he wanted to shut everything else out, and only think about the buzz of his watch and what maybe was going on down there and what he would do about it when he would get to it, but then there was Harley again, and how he had put his arm around him, and his head was still full when he pointed towards the stairs as Harley went to take the elevator, and it was still full when he saw Harley push open the next door, the door to the penthouse, and then suddenly it wasn’t anymore, and he finally did what he should have done already on the roof and gripped the boy by his shirt and yanked him back. 

“What are you doing?”

Harley was staring at him, the same haste and fright in his eyes that Peter felt and it was as if everything was coming back at once. It felt like running into a wall of bricks, the way his senses came back in, from wherever he had lost them. The timing could hardly be better.

“Shh,” Peter gestured towards the door, “stay here.”

“What? Why? Do you—Do you think someone’s there?”

“I’m not sure,” Peter said in a hushed voice and looked up and down the hallway, trying to make out anything in the darkness. He couldn’t hear anything. But there was something in the air, a scent, sickly and sweet.

“You’re not sure?”

“No. But…” He paused. Maybe it would be better not to say what he was sensing. He wasn’t even sure whether his senses were working properly. But then, this was just Harley. He wouldn’t make fun of him even if he didn’t know the full story. “… it smells weird.”

Harley knitted his brows together. “I don’t smell anything,” he whispered, but not in a way as if he didn’t believe him, rather fearful. “It could just be a power outage and what you’re smelling is a blown fuse?”

Maybe. It wasn’t as if his senses had been the most reliable during these last days. But what if that wasn’t everything? Tony wouldn’t warn him of a blown fuse.

“I know something’s wrong, Harley, please, can you just stay here? For me?” The one thing he was sure of was that he did _not_ want Harley to go with him to find out what it was.

Harley looked at him for a second, mulling the thought over in his head, and Peter was already getting ready for another round of pleadings, but then he whispered, “Okay.”

Peter blinked.

“Okay?”

Harley nodded.

Peter frowned. He had not expected Harley to actually listen to him. For all that he knew, Peter was a skinny nerd that had just asked him to let him go in there all alone while he kept his distance. 

But then, that’s what he had asked him for, so it was a little senseless to be offended about it. And Harley didn’t know that, but he _was_ a superhero, so if anything were to happen it wasn’t as if he actually was a skinny nerd. Well yes. But not only.

“Okay.” He nodded to seal the deal. “Okay, just, stay here, and I’ll just— check everything.”

Harley nodded again, his lips pressed together. Well, at least Peter could see a worried glint in his eyes now.

He turned around and started to scan the apartment, moving slowly and cautiously. He tried turning on the lights as he got to the end of the hallway, but nothing happened.

He knew how to do this, he told himself as he inched forward into his room, scanning the space. He had done this a thousand times. In alleyways and dark streets and abandoned warehouses, with his suit, with his old pajama-one, even in civilian clothes. He had done it so often, he almost forgot sometimes what was on the line. Not only his safety. He forgot about that so often, Tony would rip off his head if he were to find out. No, about the people he was trying to save. It was as if there was this fixed schedule in his head: swing in, find the victim and the assailant, keep the victim out of the line of fire, disarm and web up the bad guy, let Karen notify the police, help victim if harmed, bring them to safety, to the hospital or safely home.

It was like a list of instructions, a receipt he for once knew how to follow.

The chance of doing something wrong wasn't even an option, because, well, he had been doing this for three years, and things went wrong, yes, they did, but he tried to push those to the back of his mind. Trying to stay calm, collected, _your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man._ Cause that’s what he was supposed to do and that’s what he loved to do. If he thought about what was on the line every time he swung in, things wouldn't be going as smooth as they were.

And that’s why sometimes it hit him, when he was finally in bed after a long patrol, or when he saw himself on the news. As if he was looking at himself from the outside. Looking at that persona he had made up for himself, that persona who sometimes forgot that he could be the reason someone was not getting home safely one day. That _he_ had the control. That _he_ was the one who put people in the line of fire sometimes.

Pushing back those thoughts was the only way to do his thing right, to not slip one moment and see what consequences that stumble held.

But as Peter was reaching the lab, trying not to make a sound as he set one foot in front of the other, staying close to the wall and taking in his surroundings, he couldn't push them all back. An unsettling feeling was welling up inside of him the more of the apartment he searched. There was something wrong – but he couldn’t quite tell what it was.

He couldn’t see much, except for the dim glow of the monitors and the vague shadows on the tables. Quickly, his eyes adjusted to the murkiness and he glanced towards the workstation Harley and him had sat at just a few hours before, where his laptop was still put as if it was waiting for another round of mindless jokes and videos.

And maybe that was the reason he couldn’t concentrate on the situation at hand, because this was his home at the moment, his safe place, and he hadn’t gotten to terms with the fact yet that now it was also the alleyway or the dark street and the abandoned warehouse. And that he hadn't found the assailant yet, but knew damn well who the victims were supposed to be.

What attracted those people with guns and loud voices was their hatred of Tony Stark and only Tony Stark, because he had forgotten to click glasses with them at an event, or because he had once bumped into them with his baby buggy, or because he had done nothing at all to them, and it was idiotic and it was obsolete and it was unfair. And it made Peter so damn mad sometimes, because everyone who was in Tony’s vicinity was in danger as well, just because the bad guys didn't feel like being bad guys towards someone who actually deserved it.

And now someone was trying it again, and just because they were staying there they were in danger now too. He didn’t want to know what that meant for Tony’s consciousness. 

Peter shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head. What was important now wasn’t the intruders’ motives, but their whereabouts and their plan. He needed to follow the receipt, or things would go wrong. 

He let his eyes wander about the lab once more, almost disappointed he didn't see anything. He hated not knowing what the threat— _buzz!_

He almost jumped when his watch buzzed again and quickly accepted the call when he saw Tony’s name flare up on the tiny display.

He almost prepared himself for something like, _“We have Stark and his family, whoever you are, you better make sure that we have some millions on our bank account in the next few minutes or we’ll blow them up!”_ , but really, as if anyone could take down Iron Man – so he wasn't really surprised to hear the man on the other side of the line.

“Peter, thank god.” Tony sounded out of breath and Peter felt his muscles tense up. “Are you okay? Where are you? I can’t see you.”

“What? We were on the roof ... and now I’m in my lab.” Peter whispered. “Where are you? There’s no intruder here or anything, why did you—Should I come down to your floor? Are the attackers there? Is someone hurt—”

“You—” Tony interrupted him, an incredulous tone to his voice. “Why the fuck are you still in there?!”

Peter paused for a brief second, his rambling abruptly having come to a stop, “What? What do you mean?”

“I sent you—” It seemed Tony was speechless for a second, then he groaned, „They must have cut the outside con—No, no doesn’t matter, get out of there _right now!_ Is Harley with you?”

“I— I left him in the hallway, I thought someone had—”

“Get him, Peter! And put on your mask, you have it with you, don’t you? It will filter the air.”

“What’s going on? Was there an attack—” Peter went to grab the mask off the workstation.

“Yes, but—Peter, get him, and then leave the building! And whatever you do, do not breathe in heavily, there’s gas in the air.”

Peter heart thudded to a stop. The scent. The scent he had been smelling since they had come inside. The scent Harley wasn’t able to smell. Harley.

“Peter. Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” he stuttered out. “Yes, I’m gonna go get him.”

His mind raced as he took off. How much time had he needed to search the apartment? How long had he talked to Tony, how much time had he wasted while Harley was out there waiting for him, unknowing that they were in the very middle of an attack, breathing in and out like nothing was going on.

_Keep the victim out of the line of fire._

*

**Abby:** did he fall asleep on your shoulder again?

**Abby:** haaaaarleyy

**Abby:**???

**Abby:** guess you fell asleep on his then lol

 **Abby:** hope u had a good day harls<3


	14. that was a secret, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you all are sooo sweet:) but I guess I will still hurt you so yeah, enjoy!

Harley always hated sports. He didn't get why people would do that to themselves – run even though nothing was chasing them and hit a ball as if they had a deadly feud with it. He had found other ways to keep himself fit, like working on cars of the neighbors that thought he was trustworthy enough, or cycling to school and back every day.

Right now, he found himself regretting never working on his endurance. He didn't know why, but apparently it was the short run down the stairs back to their apartment that had left him completely gutted. His mouth and throat had gone dry as soon as Peter had disappeared, and he wasn't even sure when that had been. How long had he been gone already? He couldn’t really tell anymore.

Harley readjusted in his spot. It was still dark around him, the penthouse was eerily quiet, and suddenly, an idea sparked up in his head.

What if all of this wasn’t real? What if this had all been set up? He broke into a silent grin. It was his birthday after all - maybe Peter had only lured him to the rooftop to keep him away from their floor, and FRIDAY’s warning was supposed to confuse and distract him, and right now Peter was in the living room setting up another set of confetti guns and Tony, Pepper and Morgan were there too - and what if they had flown in Abby?

All of that wasn’t even unrealistic – Peter _had_ set up a surprise for him already. Peter would do all of that.

And honestly, how high were the chances that there was an attack on Stark Tower? It was the about safest building on the entire globe, armed with the most advanced A.I. system to keep it that way.

Just that FRIDAY had been cut off back then on the roof, when Peter and him were just about to ...

Were they about to …? He wasn’t sure anymore.

His breath quickened.

And if all of it had only been fake, why had Peter seemed so panicked and frantic? He wasn't a great actor after all.

The air around him began to feel thick somehow as time went on, pressing in on him like cotton candy. His nails dug into his palms. Breathing was kind of hard. Really hard. As if he’d just run a marathon. He tried to even his inhaling, but every sharp gasp of air felt like nails scratching down on a chalkboard, drowning his thoughts.

He really should have worked out more.

*

_Find victim._

Peter was rushing down the hallway, his blood pounding in his ears. Why, _why_ didn't he leave Harley to stay on the roof? _Why_ did he have to come with him? _Why_ did he leave him alone? A pit grew in his gut when he didn’t see Harley standing where he had seen him last, leaned against the doorframe, waiting for his return. Where was he? He’d have to search the apartment again and—

Oh.

Harley was sitting on the floor, his back against the door. He looked up at Peter as he saw him hurry down the hallway, his eyes big and droopy.

“Peter.”

He was breathing hard, his chest heaving. Peter could hear his heart thudding inside of it from where he was, a few meters away. “Harley!” He closed the distance between them and got on his knees before him.

“Peter. You came back.” His voice was quiet, and kind of hoarse as he looked at Peter. His eyes seemed to glaze over him. Too long. That’s how long he had been gone.

„Did you find the bad guys?”

Right.

_Disarm the bad guy._

“Here, put this on!”

Harley stared at the mask in Peter’s hands for a moment, as if he needed to sort through his brain to place it. “What? Why would I …” he inhaled deeply, a pained expression crossing his face, “... wear your mask?”

“They’re gassing the building—Harley, don’t breathe so hard!”

“There’s … gas? Wh—why?” Only then, Harley seemed to come back to the moment. He was looking at him confused, a fazed sheen in his eyes as if he was drunk. Yes, why? Why would someone make Peter have to save his best friend from suffocating? _Why?_

“You should … you should wear it then, Pete ... or you’re goin’ to get hurt and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Harley, I’m fine,” Peter tried to steady the older boy’s head. “And _I_ don’t want _you_ to get hurt, so you gotta wear this now. Yes? Come on.”

“I’m alright, Pete,” he whispered, and Peter was lucky to have his super hearing, or he surely wouldn't understand a word he was saying, especially when his next words were muffled by the red fabric as he finally managed to slip it over his head.

“I jus’ feel a bit tired.”

He was breathing through the mask now, but he still had been breathing in whatever was in the air for minutes on end. He _needed_ to get him out of there.

_Bring victim to safety._

The rooftop was the closest escape. So that was where they were going. Even though that meant he needed to get him up the stairs.

So Peter gripped him by his arms and pulled him to his feet and although he was able to take his weight without batting an eye, the boy slipped from his arms as he coughed severely and toppled over.

“‘M sorry, Peter, didn’t mean to fall.” His voice sounded airy and hoarse beneath the mask. “I didn’t mean to fall.”

“It’s okay. Harley, we just gotta get you out of here, yeah?” He pulled him up again, but this time kept a firm grip on him as he snaked his arm around his waist.

“I tried not to but I couldn’t help it …” Harley muttered as Peter pushed open the door with his shoulder.

Harley wasn't fully there, and somehow that made him worry even more than the fact that the sickly sweet smell hadn’t left the air around them. He knew this kind of muttering. It came with unfocused eyes and panic-stricken shivers and being out of your senses. It never meant anything good.

_Bring victim to safety._

They climbed the first steps and Peter felt Harley's weight on his side with every one of them. The next step. Harley was stumbling along, and Peter wanted to stop and tell him to breathe, to just fucking breathe, but he had to get to the top of the stairs so that he was able to do that at all anymore. Next step. Peter could hear his heart thudding in his own chest. It started pounding at an increasingly rapid pace. Next step. Harley’s wasn’t. Next step. It was as if with Harley’s decelerating heartbeats Peter’s breathing was growing faster and faster, as if his body needed to make up for the life that was dripping out of the boy beside him with every step they took.

The stairs were ascending endlessly before them. Why did he have to breathe so hard? The smell didn't affect him like it did Harley. Next step. He just needed to breathe and get Harley up these stairs, whether his mind and body wanted him to or not.

_Bring victim to safety._

He felt his stomach churn as he climbed another step and felt Harley grip at his shoulder. “Peter … are you ...”

Next step. “I’m fine,” Peter gasped. _Not now. Not now,_ his mind screamed. He could deal with something like this after a bad patrol, or during a stressful week – he could always handle his panic. But _not now_.

Next step. Now the dizziness set in and he almost stumbled.

_Push back your thoughts. Push back the panic. Concentrate._

_Bring victim to safety._

At once, as if he had conjured it with his desperation, the top of the stairs was right before him, and he pulled Harley along beside him. Next step. And the next one. And then the last one. His head was spinning as he went to open the door. He grabbed the handle, expecting to stumble out into the fresh air within a second. He had been panicking, but he would've done it, they'd be safe and Harley would be okay again and he would be able to be okay again too, and then they could-

The door didn't move.

_Bring victim to safety. Bring Harley to safety._

Peter sucked in heaps of air, his head tingling with pressure. His hands shook as he tried again, but it _didn’t move._

“FRIDAY?” he whispered into the air. “FRIDAY!” More desperate this time. But she didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t.

He was alone, with Harley right beside him, his body slackening in his arms. He didn’t know what he’d have to do if Harley went unconscious, he didn’t know when help would be there, he didn’t know why it had to be _Harley_ , _why Harley,_ and he didn’t know how to escape – but what he knew was that they needed to, and that fast.

_Bring Harley to safety._

_Concentrate._

A window. There was nothing but darkness beyond it, but what was there was air. And help.

He had no time to think, no time to plan, no time to think of the consequences – no time at all. It didn’t matter what Harley would see, what he would know, what everyone would see who was around, all that mattered was to get him out of there alive.

So he pulled Harley along the hallway at the small of his back as fast as he dared to, and he told himself he knew how to do this, it was glass and no metal door and it was what he’s been doing for three years, he knew how to do this, and then he made Harley lean back against the wall, and he took a few steps back, and then he rushed forward with his shoulder first, and the hit sent pain through all of his body as his shoulder connected with the glass, but then it cracked as he stumbled back, and when he pushed again, the glass caved in and the shards crashed to the ground.

_It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. You wanted to tell him anyway._

He pulled Harley close to him again. Promptly he felt Harley turn on his side, and next thing he knew, Harley was pushing Spider-Man's mask over his head. “No … Harley, keep that on,” he protested, but Harley shook his head, although his eyes were still unfocused.

“People would recognize you …” Harley’s voice faded off, “… _dumbass_.”

_What._

Was he— Did he mean—? No. That would mean that— No.

His brain short-circuited. Peter stared at the boy in his arms and had to keep himself from freezing up completely, unable to ever move again.

“Oh,” Harley must’ve felt him stiffen up, because he gasped softly, “that … that was a secret, right? Was it … was it mine or— or yours? I don't remember …” Harley’s eyes were dropping shut as a light breeze caught in his hair. “I’m sorry. Sorry.”

No. No no no no no. Not happening.

Peter pushed back his thoughts. He concentrated. And then he tapped on his wrists, and damn, was he glad he had grabbed his web shooters in his lab, and then he shot forward his arm while he pressed down on the trigger, pulled back a bit to test the connection, tightened his grip around the other boy’s waist, took a few steps back – and flung them into the night.

_Safety._

*

Harley would really like to close his eyes. There had been Peter’s face before him, and then air in his lungs again, and then there had been stairs, an amount of them that made his head feel even dizzier, and then he had given up on breathing again, because there was Peter next to him, and an open window, and his savior complex that made him want to save everyone but not himself and Harley couldn't have that.

His chest was growing tighter by the second and he would like to say it was because of the thoughts twirling through his mind, of the uncertainty, but he also felt a bit nauseous, like that time he had gotten a food intoxication because of a competition with Abby about who could eat most of the snickerdoodles they had made together. 

And now he was sitting on the cold concrete, his back against Peter's chest, and he thought that maybe they were waiting for someone, but he wasn't sure. Peter's sharp gasps vibrated through Harley’s body, and he felt himself shiver in the coldness they were engulfed in for the second time that night.

He would really like to look out for shooting stars again. 

Harley saw Peter’s head whip towards him, but he didn’t know why. Had he made a noise? He hoped it wasn’t something embarrassing. Peter was leaning down to him. Why was he looking at him like that? Oh, he had slipped off the mask again. Now he slipped it over his head.

He looked … panicked? Why was he so stressed? He didn’t want Peter to be stressed. He didn’t want those puppy dog eyes to be terrified because of him. He was talking, but his voice sounded far away, as if he was speaking through the cotton candy that was pushing in on him. They had made it in time, Peter had saved them, so everything was alright, or not? Why then was Peter cowering above him as if he was going to die right there under the countless millions of invisible stars?

If he just closed his eyes for one second, maybe then Peter would smile at him again, and then he would say it had all just been a joke and now they were going to share shooting star wishes again and then maybe—

Harley’s world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...............................uh...................sorry?.............


	15. spider-man has a boyfriend?!

“Give it up for Flash, Flashmob!”

Flash exclaimed his usual intro as he paced through his room, recording himself with his phone. “Flash’s back, and that with a live reaction video!” The alarm clock on his nightstand showed the digits _2:47_ , and honestly, he couldn't care less. This would be worth it. Hopefully.

“Welcome back to my series about the mightiest and coolest Avenger—” he paused for dramatic effect, “—Spider-Man! We’ve been running low on material for the past two weeks, but it _seems_ like tonight has been _more_ than interesting!”

And because that was indeed the case, he talked fast to get the introduction done and move on with the actual video. He inhaled. “Spidey’s disappeared off New York’s streets since quarantine started and _many_ people have been saying shit about him for not helping people out during these times – but _I’ve_ been telling you all and everyone who’s been talking this trash that he’s gotta stay safe too and apparently he’s been doing that, ‘cause the video’s description says that it was recorded at Stark Tower. Which _also_ means that Spider-Man’s been in quarantine with Iron Man ‘cause it’s known that Tony Stark also stays in his tower.” Flash paused and looked at the camera eagerly. “Which supports my theory that Spider-Man is an Avenger already and it just hasn’t been made public – why else would he be staying there?” Flash lifted his brow in his best _I told you so_ way. He sat down at his desk and opened the tab he had already prepared.

“The video was posted on _baby_yodamemes_ Instagram page ten minutes ago, and I haven't watched it yet. Always possible that they’re just making a big deal out of nothing, and the account isn’t really …” he frowned, “convincing? Quite a cut from their usual content. But I’ve kinda got a good feeling about this. Let’s see, it’s about five minutes long, and the caption says they’ve been taking a walk because they couldn't stay inside all the time and … bla bla bla,” Flash scanned the words impatiently, “here. ‘just like ten minutes ago’ … bla, bla, ‘Spider-Man and his boyfriend jumped—” His head shot up, an incredulous look on his face. “What? _‘Boyfriend’?”_

He frowned, and blinked, and then hastily said, “Well, we’ll see, let’s just start!”

Shaking his head in confusion, he quickly set up his phone to record the whole thing – his set-ups usually were more professional but the project came up pretty spontaneously, so sue him – so that his reaction and the video were visible alongside each other. He pressed play and the video started.

The screen was promptly filled with two faces, two girls. “Well, that’s a surprise,” he snorted. He had expected some pimpled nerd to appear, considering the username.

_“Oh my god, the craziest thing just happened!”_ one of the girls whisper shouted into the phone that was filming them. They were hunched next to a wall and crammed together by their shoulders so they both fit into the picture, darkness surrounding them.

_“Shh, we gotta be more silent,"_ the other girl whisper yelled back equally as loud. She readjusted in her spot on the concrete and moved up one hand to steady the phone. “ _Okay, so, Spider-Man,”_ her eyes shifted to something located behind the phone she was holding, _“is sitting in the middle of the street, and there’s someone else with him, and—”_

_“No, no, no, you gotta start at the beginning,”_ the other girl piped up, _“We were like, on a midnight walk and just walking down the street and then suddenly they come down just a few meters before us, as if they jumped off a building or something – I mean he’s Spider-Man so that’s not crazy – but it wasn’t really …”_

“ _... controlled?_ ” the other suggested with a one-sided shrug.

“ _Yeah that, and then we went back so they wouldn't see us, ‘cause we don't know what they’re doing? Now Spidey’s sitting in the middle of the street, but he’s only like, wearing his mask? Not the suit? And he and that other person, they’re—”_ her reeling came to a halt as she fumbled for words. _“I don’t even know what they’re doing.”_

_“Just look!”_ The girl holding the phone flipped the camera so that now the street before them was visible and Flash rolled his eyes, mumbling, “Finally, I thought they’d keep rambling on forever …” but he went quiet as the video focused on the scene about ten meters away from the spot the girls were hunching.

And apparently, they hadn't been making things up, there were two figures in the middle of the street, one of them disguised by a familiar red mask that was standing out in the murkiness of the night.

“Woah, he’s really in civilian clothes! Why would he—”

But Flash was cut off by the girls who picked up on their commentary in that moment. “ _Are they cuddling or what? Maybe it’s a date,”_ one of them giggled quietly, both of them not visible anymore now. She gasped. _“Wait—The other one, is it a boy or a girl?_ ”

The other girl’s voice perked up, its owner as well out of view, “ _They’re blond I think._ ”

“ _Yeah, well, that doesn’t help in the slightest, Alison,_ ” the girl countered jokingly. Alison sputtered, but she cut her off abruptly, “ _Psh, wait! I think he’s—he’s saying something—_ ” The girls in the video went silent, and the video was zooming in on the couple in front of them.

Flash leaned closer to the screen to hear, but after some seconds of listening to the rushing of wind, he scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion and rolled his eyes. “I don’t hear anything ...”

_“What’s he saying?”_

“ _Shh,_ ” the girl shushed her friend again, continuing to listen intently. “ _I think he’s calling her Harley?”_

_“That name’s unisex, they could still be—”_

The phone shook for a second and with a crack, the sound altered and Flash’s eyes widened as the words were now also audible in the video, even if dampened and fuzzy.

_“Harley? … Harley, stay with me,”_ Spider-Man called out through the empty street, but his next words were inaudible as he cowered above the other person.

“ _Oh my god, do you think she’s hurt?”_

_“I don’t know—”_

_“We should go and help them, right? What if—_ ”

_“Yeah,”_ the other girl agreed and the video went even darker as they jumped up and made their way towards the couple – now only the concrete and the buildings on the side of the street were visible – before they suddenly stopped moving and gasped slightly.

_“Oh my god, did he just—”_

_“Yes, yes, he did, woah.”_

Both of them seemed equally shocked, and Flash’s eyes bulged. “ _What?_ What did he do?” Flash was leaning impossibly closer to the screen and, as if infected by his desperation, the girls scrambled to hold the phone up again.

Just a few meters before them, Spider-Man was slipping his mask over the other person's head, his own head coming up undisguised.

Flash’s jaw dropped, and his eyes got even bigger, rushing over the screen to make out his face in the blurry image. _What was he doing?_

_“Woah,”_ one of the girls gasped, and at the sound Spider-Man’s head whipped towards them, shock obvious in his stance despite his arms immediately shooting up to cover his face.

_“Oh, fuck,”_ he gasped out and jolted back, while never leaving the other person’s space. It was a boy, a teenager, unmoving, his head hidden behind the mask. But Flash’s eyes immediately shifted back to the other boy who in that moment yanked the hood of his hoodie over his head, his hand shooting out to stop the girls from coming closer. “ _Stay back!”_ he yelled. _“Fuck.”_

The camera shook as the girls retreated hurriedly, but they didn’t stop filming despite the concrete again being the only sight the phone was recording.

_“Harley, can you hear me?”_ The abbreviated distance between the hero and the boy and their unwelcome audience made that every panicked word the hero muttered could be understood. _“He’s going to be here in a minute, and then everything will be fine. Harls? Please.”_ He was more than panicked, that was clear even without seeing him anymore.

A weird feeling was welling up in Flash as he looked on and the video was again flipped, so that the two boys were filmed again. He found himself growing mad at the girls. He felt like they shouldn’t intrude. The moment felt … personal. But then, he would probably do the same – He _was_ doing the same, intruding was exactly what he was doing by watching the video. Maybe he shouldn’t—

Flash gasped, at the same time the girls in the video did the same, “Oh my god. Is that— is that Iron Man?!”

Because in that moment, the familiar red-golden armor appeared behind them, rushing closer through the street canyon like a fighter jet on its airstrip. The hero landed on the street with a tremor and immediately closed the distance between him and the two boys hunched on the concrete. Spider-Man – he didn’t really look much like the superhero right now, but Flash didn’t know what else to call him – turned towards him, his back to the camera, shoulders slackening noticeably as he recognized the newcomer. 

_“Kid!”_

Iron Man’s mechanic voice was somehow laced with concern as it sounded through the eerie street. _“Kid, are you alright?”_

_“Harley. He needs to—He ...”_

Iron Man’s gaze dropped to the boy beside him, and before Spider-Man could get out anything else, he was leaning down and lifting him up in his arms. 

_“Okay, okay, just ... follow me, alright, kid? He’ll be okay,”_ the man said reassuringly. Then, he took a few steps back and fired up into the night, leaving Spider-Man to stand alone on the street.

The phone was shaking slightly, but it didn’t seem as if the girls were moving. They weren’t saying anything. Flash didn’t feel like saying anything much either.

Spider-Man moved forward, as if to take a run-up and follow them, but just before he threw out his arms to shoot a web – a motion Flash knew as well as brushing his own teeth – he stopped in his tracks. His shoulders tensed up again, even visible under the thick hoodie he was wearing. He turned towards them, his face shadowed by the hood, and then, faster than Flash could blink, shot out his arm. With a smacking sound the video went black.

For a second Flash thought the video was over – he saw his reflection in the black screen, a bewildered expression on his face – but then there were voices again and the patter of feet.

_“What the fuck just happened?!”_ one of the girls wheezed as she picked up the phone. Both of their faces were in front to the phone again now, both wearing an equally distraught expression on their face.

_“Spider-Man almost broke my phone. I can’t believe it,”_ the other gasped, moving her head to inspect the device.

_“I guess he really doesn't want anyone to know who he is.”_

_“Did you see his face? Did you see him?”_ The girl – the one that wasn’t Alison or whatever – looked away from the camera and instead eyed her friend curiously.

_“No, not really, I don't know, everything happened so fast… Did you?”_

_“No. But—he had brown hair. And… he was young, wasn’t he? I mean, his voice? That could’ve been my little brother.”_

_“Yeah, definitely. That… that was a boy.”_ She paused, staring off into the direction the heroes had vanished to. _“_ _Spider-Man’s a teenager.”_

_“The other as well.”_

Alison looked back at her friend, as if she only remembered the other boy then. “ _That was his boyfriend, I’m calling it!”_

_“We gotta post this. You got everything recorded, right?”_

The other girl nodded, staring at the phone display, “ _This is so crazy,”_ she breathed out, and the video went black.

Flash’s mouth was hanging open. He probably looked as if he just went through a car wash, with how much he’d been tearing at his own hair.

“He’s a teenager. He’s literally just ...” Flash blurted out.

He didn’t know what to say. This didn’t happen often.

“And we almost saw his face. That was … _so_ close!” He shook his head. He had almost seen it before his eyes, in that moment that he saw the hero’s head whip towards the camera. A muscular, handsome and brave man, mid-twenties— except, no, that’s not what he would have seen. A teenager. His age. And from what he just saw, he would be teary-eyed instead of courageous.

“Sorry, I just … I just have to digest this for a minute.”

He looked back at his phone that was still recording him, and quickly ended the livestream. This would be his worst reaction video ever. He didn't care.

*

When Flash woke up the next morning he had momentarily forgotten about last night’s events. Another day free of annoying teachers and school, free of pathetic Penis Parker, Creepy Girl and their equally annoying nerd friend. He blinked against the bright sunlight and calmly reached for his phone to check his notifications, rolled back on his back, and—

—almost let his phone fall into his face.

Right. Stark Tower. Spider-Man. Teenager. Boyfriend. Or whoever _Harley_ was.

The internet seemed to have come to a decision though.

It seemed like everyone was seriously tired of covering the virus. They darted for anything slightly headline-worthy – usually the media wasn’t all over every superhero related incident, especially not if that superhero was friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. The resulting headlines were mostly clickbait since everyone seemed to be in the dark as much as Flash was. The video quality was worse than shitty – no identification possible, if you were to believe the statement of some computer guy with a few thousand followers on Facebook – and thus none of the articles actually revealed anything more than what those two girls told them in the video. There was no statement from Iron Man, or SI, or Spider-Man himself, nothing that would put an end to the wild assumptions that were spreading all over the internet.

The headlines varied from pretty modest and factual ones like **_Attack on Stark Tower_** , through to more daring ones like **_Spider-Man Has a Boyfriend?!_** and **_Spider-Man Gives up Secret Identity for Secret_ _Boyfriend!_** Apparently calling someone by their nickname made them your boyfriend. And shipable, considering the new hashtag _Spiderley._ No one really seemed to care for the state the hero had been in.

And again, Flash found himself wondering why the girls couldn’t just go for a walk some other time.

*

**Abby:** guess you fell asleep on his then lol

 **Abby:** hope u had a good day harls<3

  
  
  
**Harley:** yO GUESS WHAT


	16. run over by a truck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *in the city, while having dinner, literally any time and place* I really wanna write right now!!:D  
> also me: *finally sitting in front of my laptop, google docs pulled up, nobody bothering me in the world* let’s watch some old conan gray videos shall we?
> 
> again, I am here with 6k, no clue how that happened with my absolutely shitty work ethic  
> also, *important information* i finally have holidays and I’m going on a trip, but unfortunately I won’t have time to write or post anything in that time, so I hope you can forgive me but I probably won’t update this for about two weeks! I hope you’re all still here then, because I will definitely be! (and be glad that I didn’t manage to finish the next chapter, because that ends with a cliffhangerTM and you don’t wanna be left with that;))  
> Hope you enjoy!

Nothing.

That’s all that there was for a long time.

The funny thing about that special nothing was that you didn’t really notice it, or feel it at all. You only knew it existed when it didn’t anymore.

And maybe it wasn't all that funny, because man, did Harley feel shitty about it when he woke up from it. His head was pounding and his body felt stiff like sometimes when your leg goes to sleep, right before that prickling sets in.

“Did you know that sea otters sometimes hold hands while they’re sleeping to keep from floating away from each other? That’s so cute.”

There was a soft voice, somewhere behind all the cotton candy that was pressed to his ears, somewhere where talking was possible and eyes could be opened, somewhere far away from where Harley was.

The voice had been talking for some time now, for as long as he could remember since that nothing had ended. It was comforting in a way, the ceaseless stream of words that were floating in and out of his mind like clouds on a windy day.

And without even noticing, he slipped back into nothing.

*

The next time the nothingness parted, the flood of words was gone.

He turned on the soft mattress and tried to open his eyes. The room was bright white from the sunlight streaming in through the windows and he had to blink for some minutes to have them stay opened against the light. He felt slow, not only in his motions, more in his head, as if his brain had been dumped into a big pot of honey and it was now sticky and messed up and the thoughts had to sift through the pulp to be registered and processed.

There was another voice now, but it sounded dampened and kind of far away, not as close and soft as the first one. He turned again, trying to lift his head to look out for its owner. Quickly, his eyes moved over the white bedspread and the sterile furniture — he definitely wasn’t in his own room — and finally landed on three figures only a small distance from him.

Tony and Peter were sitting in chairs on his right, and Pepper was standing before them, gesturing as she spoke. Something was wrong about the situation, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was.

The look Tony was wearing on his face almost made Harley want to break out into laughter, but then his gaze moved to Peter and the humor left his body.

Peter.

The boy was sitting there, slumped in his chair, looking bashfully at the ground. Why was he so sad? Or rather ashamed? Harley wanted to know what was wrong and then make it right again so Peter wouldn’t have to look sad anymore.

None of them had noticed him yet, lying there awake in the bed right beside them, too engaged in their conversation. Then, he realized what was so weird about the situation. He had never seen Tony and Pepper and Peter in one room together. Why were the two adults here? _Oh my god,_ he thought, had he been unconscious for so long that the pandemic was over?

_“What are you doing here?”,_ he wanted to say, but only a whimper escaped his lips. Suddenly his throat was burning as if he had been gargling with acid for some good hours and the air streaming into his lungs made him squeeze his eyes shut in pain. What happened to his lungs?

As he opened his eyes again, he found Pepper leaned over his bed. She was wearing a t-shirt and sweats, and a face mask — so maybe he hadn’t been gone for _that_ long _._

“Harley, can you hear me?”

He nodded slowly, trying to move his head as little as possible. He didn’t know if he could take another pain attack like that without passing out.

Now, he saw her eyes crinkle slightly as if she was smiling as she brushed his shoulder soothingly and said, “Great to have you back. I‘m going to get Helen here, alright?” The last words were meant for the other two, who now came into view as Pepper retreated from his side.

Tony was wearing a mask too as he came forward and ruffled through his hair, the same crinkle around his eyes that Pepper had worn. “Hey bud, how are you feeling? Anything hurts?”

Harley tried to shrug and answer, but his body wouldn’t do that for him, so he just tilted his head to the side a bit, doing his best to express the idea of an honest _Nah._ He wasn’t going to lie, he did _not_ feel nice. A bit dazed too.

But before Tony could inquire any further, a hand came up at his shoulder and the man stepped back to leave some space for—

Curly hair, a much to big hoodie, a smile so bright it might just outshine the sun. Peter was looking him up and down with his big puppy dog eyes as he pushed forward, and Harley‘s chest filled up with comfort and happiness.

“Harls. You're awake.” 

His voice sounded breathy and unsure and Harley nodded, but before he could even try and say anything in greeting, Peter stepped forward once more, closed the gap between them and pulled him into a hug.

“Oh,” Harley gasped out and ignored the burning in his throat as Peter scooped him up in his arms, the warmth of his body spreading to his immediately.

_This is nice_ , shot through his head as he smiled into his shoulder, bringing his arms up to awkwardly hug him back.

With the movement though, a cough freed itself from his throat, and he winced as the air shot out of his lungs. _Why is this hurting so much?_ At once, much too soon for Harley’s liking, Peter retreated, almost as fast he had embraced him, and took a few steps back from the bed, his eyes cast to the ground.

Tony put his hand on his shoulder as if to steady him, and then, before Harley could get any of his questions out or maybe ask if Peter would hug him again, the door was opened and two women entered. One was Pepper, who stepped next to her husband and Peter, while the other one, a medic probably, considering the white tunic and clinical mask, walked closer to him and smiled warmly.

“My name is Helen Cho. I‘m going to check you over, yes?” She was talking to him, but as if on cue, Pepper nodded to Tony and the man pulled at Peter‘s shoulder to get him to move away.

“We‘ll be back as soon as Helen is done, okay Harley?” Pepper said sweetly, and he quickly nodded, despite not quite wanting them to leave.

They left, Peter looking back over his shoulder before he closed the door, an anxious look crossing his face as Helen went to check the devices next to his bed. She was bustling with the gauges that were connected to him by strings.

“You inhaled a precarious amount of toxic substances. As a result, you’ve been unconscious for three days and your respiratory tracts have been badly affected, but it seems like the swellings are already decreasing,” she said then. _Three whole days?_ He gulped, but immediately regretted doing so as another cough escaped his lips in response.

Helen frowned as he blinked to force his eyes open against the pain. “You’ve been awake for quite some time now, your lungs aren’t yet used to doing so much on their own. How about you relax for a bit again?”

He nodded again. He just wanted the soreness in his throat to stop.

She went to grab something from the side table, something that was probably meant to send him back to sleep, but before she could do anything, he already felt that nothing gripping at him and pulling him down again. He didn’t fight it. His eyes dropped shut.

*

Well, if that wasn’t a headache.

He used to have a lot of these back in his Freshman year. It was a throbbing pain at the back of his head, to the far right, and it always started in the morning. Like, _hey, Harley, look who’s here again! This is gonna be a great day right?_

The problem with headaches was that no one saw the pain, unlike a broken bone or a bleeding cut. And therefore headaches became this excuse for when you didn’t want to participate in P.E. or when you just can’t seem to get out of your bed in the morning — no one really took it seriously.

It’s a bit like this story where this shepherd boy always runs to these villagers and is like, _The wolf, the wolf is coming!_ But really he’s just doing it out of boredom and there’s no wolf, so after he did it some times no one really believes him anymore. So one day he comes running again, saying, _The wolf, the wolf is coming!_ And then the wolf eats him ‘cause nobody helped him.

(Yeah, okay, maybe the thing with headaches wasn’t completely like that story.) (But you get the gist.)

Anyway, this headache was one of a new kind. It felt a bit as if his head wasn't even connected to his limbs, lying all alone on the soft pillow while his body was still outside on the street across the tower, shivering from the cold of the concrete.

It was as if someone had went through his mind and glued all his memories together so he couldn’t keep them apart. There were flashes, scenes playing out in his head. He remembered that Peter and him had gone to the roof and that they had both seen shooting stars, and that, at some point, he thought that maybe Peter had wanted to … 

But he wasn't sure anymore how much of that situation he had actually experienced and how much was a result of wishful thinking. What he knew was that he couldn't really ask anyone about it. _Hey Pete, did you want to kiss me when we were on the roof, back then, before we went inside and I almost died?_ He frowned. Yeah, no.

“Harley?”

He opened his eyes, half expecting Peter to hover over him, but it weren’t brown curls framing the speaker’s face, but orange hair. Pepper was sitting on one of the chairs on his right side and now leaning towards him, an apprehensive look on her face, at least as far as he could tell with the mask.

“Hey Pepper,” he croaked out. Although his throat still hurt, he managed to let the air pass to and back from his lungs a lot better. Breathing shallowly helped.

“It’s good to see you in person for once, honey.”

His heart filled up with warmth at the softness of her tone. Sometimes he really envied Morgan and Peter, for having someone like her around to look out for them. She could be a force of nature, but when she was, you know you deserved it.

Harley had never really had a lot of one-on-one time with Pepper. (It wasn’t like he had had a lot time with Tony to begin with, so that wasn’t really astonishing.) At first, he had only known her from press conferences and business fotos, the way everyone on the planet knew her, clacking high heels and reserved smile, but then sometimes he had caught a few glimpses of her and a nice and quick, “Hello Harley, nice to see you again” when he was talking to Tony. And he saw the way she was with Tony, they were a unit, and a good one too, but you’d be wrong to think that Tony wore the pants in their relationship.

“How are you feeling?”

He felt like this was going to be a question he would be asked a lot from now on. “Better. Fine, actually. Would like to leave this bed finally. This is the medbay, right?”

Pepper nodded. “Helen told us she’d prefer to have you stay in bed a bit longer. At least a couple days. But you can move up to your floor soon.”

“And why—why are you here? I mean …” He gestured to the space between them, grateful for not having to talk any more as Pepper understood immediately.

“We were all really worried about you two when you didn’t get out of the building.” Harley nodded despite not quite getting where she was going with this. “We didn’t know where you were exactly, and when we found out you were still in there …” She shook her head, as if thinking back to that night. “Tony and I talked, and we came to the conclusion that we might have been a little too strict when we decided to have you stay on your own. Talking to you via video call just isn’t the same as being here with you. So we let Helen test us all, and it seems we’re good to go.”

Harley blinked, kind of caught off guard by the answer. Tony and Pepper had gotten so worried about them — about _him_ — that they decided to throw their caution into the wind? “What … what happened to me exactly?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

He couldn’t quite tell, but he thought he saw concern in her eyes when she asked. “How much do you remember?”

“There was … somethin’ poisonous in the air, right? Helen said I inhaled too much of it and that’s why I’m havin’ trouble breathing properly now. Do you know who did it?”

“We haven’t tracked them down just yet, but we’re working on it. We do know though how they were able to shut down FRIDAY and managed to pass the gas into the building.”

Harley lifted a brow. That was quite an accomplishment.

“It seems like they found a weak spot in the system. Tony’s been working through it, and how it could have occurred … and, well, it seems like what gave them the chance to access FRIDAY was your prank. The system’s shield was down while you, Peter and your friends hacked it, so that—”

He tensed up. “Oh god. It’s our fault?” he sank back into his pillows wanting nothing but to disappear off the world's surface. “That’s why you were so mad at Peter and Tony right?” No wonder Peter had looked so ashamed when he had seen them.

“Indeed. But I’m not exactly mad. You couldn't know this would happen and Tony couldn’t have stopped you. I just wished it wouldn’t have happened at all.”

“And … why aren’t you yellin‘ at me too?”

_Stupid question, stupid question,_ he thought, and prepared himself for the lecture, but Pepper just smiled softly. “I just can’t seem to yell at someone who looks like they‘ve been run over by a truck.”

He chuckled but quickly stopped when his throat protested.

“And … what was their motive?“ he asked. „Did they press for money? Or did they just want to … to hurt Tony?”

“They didn’t claim anything. We’re not sure about their motives yet, they could’ve aimed at a lot of things. I don’t even rule out sheer attention seeking.” She shook her head with a sigh.

“You mean… the attack was like an accomplishment?” He frowned. “‘ _We hacked Stark Tower!’_ Something like that?”

“It’s possible, yes. We will deal with everything though, you don’t need to worry about any of that. And when you’re feeling better,” Pepper said and leaned forward, “we can all have dinner together. I believe Tony and I would both like to see in person how the two of you handle all that one-on-one time.” She paused. “When you’re currently not teaching the other about regional traditions at least.”

Was that— yep, that definitely was a smirk under the mask. There was something about that unusual expression on her face that made Harley want to throw himself out of the window right in this moment.

“You too?” he sighed defeated.

Pepper huffed out a laugh. “Well, Tony can’t keep a secret from me for his life. Though, I must say he was more than willing to show the video to me …”

He groaned and slammed his hands before his face. Yeah, that’s exactly what his life was missing right now — having one of the most powerful women on the planet make fun of the definitely most embarrassing moment of his life. He was never going to live this down.

“Don’t worry about us interrupting anything though, alright? Even if we’re now not separated anymore, we’ll leave you to … each other’s company,” she said. If he had known that Pepper Potts was able to sound _that_ suggestive — he maybe would’ve understood sooner why she would settle for someone like Tony Stark.

“Nothing … nothing happened between us, you know? He doesn’t— he wouldn’t—” And if he had known that his face could get _that_ red he would’ve been even more surprised that Tony Stark and Pepper Potts were willing to put up with him.

Pepper just nudged his shoulder. “I wouldn’t call your explanation to your … unusual … _greeting_ nonchalant, much more the exact opposite, but it seems like Peter was satisfied with whatever that was.”

He frowned. Was she implying that Peter didn’t have a problem with him kissing him? He looked down at his lap and blinked.

“Do you … do you think he likes me— _that_ way?”

Pepper leaned back in her chair and tilted her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “But what I can say is that from what he told us, it seems like he had a severe panic attack when he was trying to save you.” 

Harley looked up at her shocked. “What?”

“And he _still_ managed to get you out of there. And I know that he almost denied treatment when Tony had brought you to the hospital so that he could stay with you. I almost had to kick him out of here today because he's been sitting here reading stuff to you nonstop for most of the last days.”

He was the one who had been talking to him as he was going in and out of consciousness. Of course.

“Even if I hadn’t known about the whole ‘it’s a tradition’ thing, I would have connected the dots by now.”

Harley blinked again. “Good to know.”

“Well, it’s up to you to do something with that information.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second part tomorrow!:)


	17. your brain is mixed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I am of the opinion that angst only really gives weight to the fluff afterwards. With that disclaimer - have fun!

Tony Stark had never been more afraid in his life. He hadn’t been as afraid when he was eleven years old and he’d been left home alone and there had suddenly been a loud jab on the door, and he hadn’t closed an eye the entire night. He hadn’t been as afraid when he had been kidnapped and tortured in a cave god knows where and hell, he hadn’t been as afraid when he had flown a nuclear bomb into space.

Tony had felt a lot of fear in his life, whether you would believe it or not — but nothing he had experienced could be compared to the fear he had felt when he had to fear for not only the lives of his own wife and daughter, but also his— … the boys he was responsible for.

It was a late night in the lab, he was working on plans for Peter’s aid program idea — not his usual work environment, but he would me damned if he didn’t help Peter with the whole thing — when the lights went off. You’d think, well, New York City, a power outage wasn’t like the most unusual thing. But for Stark Tower, it was kind of impossible, since it was generating energy independently from the rest of the city.

So he did his usual move — ask his A.I. for info. Pepper used to tell him he was too dependent on his A.I.s back a few years, which he had denied by making JARVIS prepare her a nice hot bath and grinning smugly. Now, he thought she might have been right.

“Boss, it seems like the power has been disabled by outside influences.”

“An attack?”

“Most definitely.”

“Where are they?”

“There are no trespassers in the tower. But I am detecting a gaseous pollution. The percentage of polluted air is increasing.”

In that moment, he was already running.

“Dangerous? Or— _How_ dangerous?”

“I would advise you to get everyone out of the building as fast as possible, Boss.”

He didn’t really have time to think anything through as he woke up Pepper and Morgan, and when Morgan began to cry when he yelled at FRIDAY to warn Harley and Peter. When he scooped her up in his arms and when he was running again.

Even when he was waiting anxiously outside, Pepper standing beside him, telling him that they had probably already left the building, Morgan in his arms with a tear-streaked face, saying, “But you said Peter and Harley would come too!” as if it was a coffee date they weren’t showing up to.

Then finally, he thought properly again, and called Peter, a call that was not connected to FRIDAY’s system and therefore reached him — confirming his apprehension that he should not depend on his A.I. with things like this. Because the warning hadn’t reached them in time before the A.I. had been cut off which left them all alone in a building gradually filling up with gas.

It was something else to make the decision to sacrifice your life for that of thousands, even if that means you’ll suffer from PTSD forever from it — than having to wait for someone else to decide about your loved ones’ fates.

That’s what he did when he stood there with Pepper and Morgan pressed to his side — waiting for God or whoever you think would decide that, to choose whether Peter and Harley would be able to work things out between them. And he waited. He thought, _they shouldn’t have any problems getting out, right? The kid’s Spider-Man._ He finally managed to access a suit while eluding FRIDAY. He took off. And he was so afraid that Peter wouldn’t report he almost missed it when he did.

_“Mr. Stark? We’re outside,”_ the kid’s thin and shaky voice sounded through the suit and Tony exhaled. _“But I need you to—to come and—and help me.”_ His breathing was rapid and fitful and Tony could basically hear the panic attack that his kid was having right in that moment.

Tony promised himself he never wanted him to sound like that again.

When he took Harley’s lifeless body up in his arms, and Peter was right before him, and he wished he would still be wearing the mask so he wouldn’t have to see the sheer panic in the kid’s eyes, he realized that he could now add a few other things to the list of things that made him awake with a start in the middle of the night.

“Just, follow me, alright, kid? He’ll be okay,” he had promised, although promises like that were the hardest to hold and if anyone knew that, it was him.

He brought Harley to the hospital, although he hated it, but he could hardly bring him to the polluted medbay. He watched as the medics took him away. He hugged Peter when he broke down. He called Abby and Harley’s mother. He got back to Pepper and Morgan to make sure they were okay. He tried to get FRIDAY back and then he got her back and then he improved her. He fixed the power supply.

He was with Harley when they brought him back to the tower, that was now free of anything that could kill someone. Well, except all the deadly weapons in there. Peter didn’t leave his side. And Tony and Pepper didn’t either. They had decided that they wanted to be around them so they could take care of them.

And that’s what he was going to do now. He was on his way to Harley and Peter’s level, since Pepper had finally managed to get Peter to leave Harley’s room in the medbay, when he heard two voices coming from their kitchen, and stopped in his tracks when he recognized them.

To say he was scared of the kid’s aunt would be over-exaggerated, but, you know, he _was_ a drama queen so yes, he was scared.

“I’m okay, May, you don’t need to—”

“Are you sure, honey?” She sighed. “Peter, you know you can’t bottle everything up until—”

“I’m okay! I don’t bottle anything up, I just, I’m okay. But I ... I have stuff to do, okay? Pepper said I should take a shower.”

There was a pause. Then, May sighed again and said, “Okay. You know you can call me whenever you feel like it, yes? No matter the time of the day or what is going on.”

Peter paused. “I know. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Tony waited a few moments, and then he stepped forward and knocked on the door frame. Peter swirled around in the kitchen stool and looked at him shocked, but slumped down again when he realized who it was.

“Hey, bud.”

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” Then, he narrowed his eyes. “Did you wait so you wouldn’t have to talk to May?”

“What? No.” Tony glared at him, despite both of them knowing the truth very well. He walked over and sat down across from Peter at the counter.

“She’s not mad at you or anything. Just worried.”

“Well, I am too. How are you holding up?”

„I’m okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter was stirring his cup of hot chocolate as regularly as a clockwork as he said the same words he had also used to try and calm down his aunt with. “Anything new from Harley?”

“No. Not since I left. Pepper is with him though.”

Peter nodded, his shoulders pressed down as if he was trying to make himself smaller than he was. 

“He’s going to be better soon, Pete. Cho said he’s okay to leave the medbay by tomorrow and then he can stay here with you again. That’s good news right?”

Peter nodded again, not much more optimistic than the last time he had done so.

“Peter—”

“I just—” Peter shook his head, looking down into his cup as if the warm steam on his face would offer him the next words. “I just can’t help but … think about …” He exhaled shakily.

Tony hated to see Peter like this. So doubtful. He didn’t sleep well, he wasn’t even sure whether he had been sleeping much at all those last four days.

“Peter,” he started. “It's not your fault that Harley—”

“I was so _weak_ , Mr. Stark!” Peter called out.

Tony froze up. Peter was looking at him, his brows furrowed and the corners of his mouth trembling slightly as if he was ashamed for bursting out.

“I could barely … get him up those stairs! And _I_ couldn’t breathe when _he_ was the one who … And then I can’t even open that damn door to the roof! I mean, a _locked door?!”_

He pushed a door that had to be pulled, that’s what he did. But Tony guessed this wasn’t the best moment to tell him about what he had seen on the footage of the night of the attack.

“I’m Spider-Man! Why …” he cut himself off and pushed the mug to the side to bury his head in his hands.

Tony shook his head. “You were in shock. That’s completely okay, Pete. No one expects you to handle such a situation just like that.”

“But _I_ do! What kind of a superhero am I if I can’t even save my friend from some gas attack? I mean, there weren’t even any bad guys I would have had to take down.” Peter’s jaw was clenched and his eyes were red, his entire face flushed up. “Then. There are these two girls and they’re filming us, and I just …” he grimaced, “... snatch her phone away like an idiot. And she still posted it. And I almost…” he gasped for air, “... they almost found out, like, if I had moved just a second later they would have—”

“The video material doesn't give you away. Your face is almost invisible.” Still, the media ate it all up like starved out vultures.

“And Harley? What if they find out who he is and then everyone— _I_ am used to being on the news sometimes. As Spider-Man. But all this media frenzy around Harley… if people were to find out who he is and they now know that there’s a connection between Spider-Man and him then he’ll become a target and—”

“And we would all take care of him. We would make sure that he stays safe, the same way that you stay under the radar and we hold Morgan out of every—”

“Harley knows.”

Tony shook his head, unable to keep up with Peter’s thoughts. “What?”

“That I’m Spider-Man.”

Tony nodded slowly and raised a brow.

“No, I mean, I think he knew _before_ I jumped out of a window. He said something about how people would recognize me without a mask and then gave it back to me, and like, that was before I had even started anything, so he must have known before right?”

Tony nodded slowly again. Well, Peter wasn’t wrong. But he probably didn’t expect the truth. Tony had to think back to the first night Harley had come to stay in New York, when Peter had called him in the middle of the night about how they had worked on Spider-Man tech, but Harley did _not_ know about his secret identity. He, knowing Peter Parker to be Peter Parker, had called Harley the next morning.

_“You know, right?”_

Harley had paused for some seconds, before replying with a soft giggle, _“Yeah … he’s not really good with that, is he?”_

Tony had just snorted, though not really surprised by the answer. _“No, no, he isn’t.”_

“But maybe he forgot again, right?” Tony blinked, brought back to the present by Peter’s prompt. “He didn’t say anything ever. And he wasn’t really … all there when got us out of the building. Right? He _doesn’t_ know?”

“Yeah, he probably doesn’t,” Tony said, but he didn’t feel as if Peter was even listening to him anymore. He was stirring his cup again.

All those last months, Tony had felt like they were growing closer, growing to be something more than mentor and mentee. He’d felt like Peter finally began to feel like he could trust him. But right now, Peter seemed far away. As if he had cut out the baby monitor protocol again and now Tony had no idea where to find him.

*

**Abby:** hope u had a good day harls<3

  
  


**Harley:** yO GUESS WHAT

**Abby:** are u serious rn??!

 **Abby:** call me!!!

 **Abby:** also I don really have to guess asshole

 **Abby:** youre literally all over the media

*

The next time Harley saw Peter, he was in the middle of a video call with Abby. After she had asked him how he was feeling for approximately three thousand times and then proceeded to let him explain everything that had happened that night in ultra detail, she had finally calmed down a bit again.

“Did you watch the press conference they held about you?“

He jolted up in his bed and his head got all dizzy. “What— A press conference? About me?”

“Yeah, you really missed all the fun stuff about that incident …“

“Sorry I was occupied with bein’ unconscious,“ he deadpanned. 

Abby glared at him. “Pepper gave a statement about the attack yesterday. Whole big thing. She just said that there was an attack and that they’re still tryin’ to find those responsible. Wasn’t really much. But then the reporters got to asks questions.“ She glanced up at him from her phone.

“What did they ask?“

“All of them asked about you and Spider-Man. Did you see the video?“

“I just did, after Pepper left.“ All she had said was that he might wanted to see what the world knew now. Bit cryptic. He came across the video two girls had taken outside of the tower. He still couldn’t quite believe it. “That’s so …” He shook his head. “… crazy.”

“So… you know that Peter is Spider-Man now. Or well, he knows that you know. Did he say anything?“

“Nope. We only saw each other for like a minute when I first woke up. Anyways, how could those two girls think I was a girl?”

Abby laughed at him and typed something in on her phone. Having found what she was searching for, she said, “‘Based on popular usage it is 3.275 times more common for Harley to be a girl’s name.’ So they weren’t all that wrong.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they had all those numbers in their head when they tried to figure me out.”

“Does it matter?“ Abby questioned and lifted an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. “No. No, of course not,“ he admitted sheepishly, glad to find his sister moving on from the topic.

“Anyways, you’re famous now!”

Harley refrained from huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, for lying on the street completely knocked out.”

She snorted. “No, for being Spider-Man’s boyfriend.”

The easy smile fell out of his face. “... what?”

“People watched the video and apparently believed what those girls were sayin’. Your ship name is trending on twitter.“

“Again: _what?!”_

“Spiderley.”

Harley just kept on staring at her.

“I mean, you’re only in fifth place …” she shrugged, while Harley was sputtering, „… but the world is literally shipping you and your crush so I’d still count that as a win.”

Harley was speechless. Literally. Abby watched him with a smirk on her lips.

“I—”

“As eloquent as ever, Harls.” She giggled at the expression that was still holding steady on his face, but then she calmed herself and put on a more serious look, although the corner of her mouth was still twitching.

“Harley. My dear brother. My most favorite yee to have ever been hawed. You just gotta get yourself together and then it‘ll all work out with Peter. I’m sure of it.”

“He’s sending mixed signals.”

She snorted. “Your brain is mixed.”

He sighed. But maybe it was, because he couldn’t help but feel like there was … _something_ between them.

Because Peter was blushing when he had told him he thought Spider-Man was hot. Because of how Peter got all shy and unsure sometimes. And because of how Pepper had told him that he had never left his side. And because of that night on the roof when …

“Hey.”

Harley was ripped out of his thoughts and stared at Peter, who was standing in the door, an anxious look on his face. He was wearing the same hoodie and his hair was tousled as if he hadn’t combed it in weeks. (He still looked absolutely adorable.) (Or rather, _that’s why_ he looked absolutely adorable.) Quickly, he responded, „Hi.”

Abby spoke up, and only then Harley realized he had been staring at him. “Uh, well, I think I gotta go now. Got lots of stuff to do … yeah.” Then, she glanced at Harley again, and speaking with a lowered voice she said, “You know what you gotta do, Harls,” and winked at him, ending the video call. _Oh god,_ Peter definitely heard her.

But when he stepped closer to the bed he didn’t say anything about it, just smiled at him softly and asked, “How are you?”

“Apart from feeling like someone had just decked me with a pan, okay, I guess,“ he joked.

Peter’s smile slipped off his face, only concern left now. _Okay._ Rather not talk about his medical condition. Harley gestured to the bed and sat himself up, so Peter could sit down there. The boy hesitated for a moment and then he climbed up, cautiously moving around his legs to make himself comfortable.

They settled in silence. It was an awkward silence, not the one that usually surrounded them. What do you talk about after one had to save the other one’s life? Who knew, definitely not him. He didn’t want things between them to be awkward though.

_You just gotta get yourself together and then it’ll all work out with Peter. I‘m sure of it._

Get yourself together. What exactly did that mean? Being brave, probably. Stop waiting. All those calendar mottos.

A plan formed in his head. He wasn’t ready for the big deal of being brave, the _Peter? I think I’m in l—_ yeah no. So something else had to serve as a stepping stone. Another confession he should’ve made a long time ago. One that was long over-due and probably a little redundant at the moment, but whatever. No better time than the present, right? (And if he was at it already, he could at least make it fun.)

He looked up at Peter who was fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, and still unnaturally quiet.

“I’m so glad Spider-Man was there to save us.“

What a prompt. Peter halted. He blinked.

“I mean, that he was there in the exact moment we were at the roof and the door didn’t open and whatever?” Harley said. “And then he just took the mask … I mean, what a timing, right?”

“Yeah …” Peter coughed. “A happy chance.” He probably couldn’t believe his luck. That Harley didn’t remember his unfortunate identity reveal? What a truly happy chance.

“So brave. And I mean, to meet him in person.” Harley sighed dramatically. “I mean, you know I’m a huge fan.” Quietly, as if that would change anything with Peter’s enhanced senses, he added, “He’s so hot.”

Peter sputtered, his head growing redder by the second. “What? You … you didn’t even see his face— you were, I mean, you were literally unconscious?“

Harley threw him a suggestive glance, pushing all the doubts to the back of his mind that were gnawing at his self-confidence. “I can admire a gorgeous body nevertheless.“

He could basically see Peter’s brain short-circuit and hear his thoughts — _‘I can admire a gorgeous body…_ what.’

In a high-pitched note, and a _slightly_ , if not completely panicked tone, Peter burst out.

“I’m Spider-Man!”

He froze — his eyes were torn open comically wide, as if he’d just seen Medusa and was now condemned to a petrous fate.

Harley gave his best at a shocked expression, but the smirk was pushing through so hard he couldn’t keep it away. Now confusion was taking over Peter’s features.

“You don’t say,” Harley grinned.


	18. this certain tinge of hopefulness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! yay! This chapter is a damn rollercoaster to be honest, so buckle up.  
> Harley sings a song and the inspo for that scene is this cover: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bS17WC_5T1I (no clue how to insert a link that takes you there directly, so you gotta work with this) just imagine it a little less complex and shorter I guess  
> thank you all to everyone who's still here, it means a lot:)

“Oh my god.” He paused. “Oh my god.”

Harley was full on smirking now and he definitely wouldn’t be surprised if Peter fell from the bed before he could even try to stop it. He’d thought about this moment maybe one or a dozen times too often — and now that it was finally there he deserved to celebrate it a bit or not? Sue him, but this was hilarious.

“I’m glad you told me at last,” he said, and watched as Peter finally blinked, seemingly unfreezing in favor of screwing up his face as if he’d just bitten into a lemon.

He broke out, “You were just kidding me? You  _ did _ know it was me? You didn’t really think that Spider-Man was….”

Harley was opening his mouth to say something, trying to continue gliding along the wave of confidence that had somehow come across, something like,  _ Well, except for when I talked about what I think of Spider-Man and his physical appearance, _ but Peter had moved on already.

“Since when?”

He paused for a second, blinking at him dumbly. “What?”

“Since when did you know I was Spider-Man? I mean, you wouldn’t be looking like that,”—Peter mimicked his self-satisfied grin and Harley laughed—“if you had only found out when I put on the mask.” 

“Well, I don’t wanna offend you or any—”

“Harley.” Peter glared at him.

“On the night in the lab.”

He sighed. “I believe you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that.”

_Fair enough._ “The, uh … first night in the lab,” he answered in a guilty tone although guilt definitely wasn’t what he was feeling right now, considering the grin that was still sticking to his face.

Peter groaned. “I hate you so much right now.”

Harley kept on grinning. “Just a small hint,” he started, “you should try to avoid walking around on the ceiling when someone could potentially walk in on you. And you should also avoid talking about Spider-Man. Like, at all.” Peter looked at him as if he might just murder him on the spot if he said anything more, so he just settled for a shrug. “Just sayin’.”

“But... if you knew the whole time, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“First off, it was really funny — sorry, but I’m supposed to say the truth, or not? — and  _ besides _ that—no, okay, I actually only thought it would be funny to wait how long I could keep pretending. But,” he thought for a second as Peter shot him another death glare, “did you _ever_ plan on telling me?”

Now Peter was shrugging. “Yes. Yes, I did. But I didn't think I needed to anymore when— I mean, I thought you’d know now anyway. Well, before you started to make fun of me.” Peter rolled his eyes and Harley chuckled.

There was a silence again as they sat there, but this time it felt more comfortable, more like  _ before. _ Hey, if that was all it took, he would gladly make fun of Peter more often from now on.

“That was … probably a bit of a letdown, right?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Me being Spider-Man? I mean, you’re such a fan and then it turns out he’s just that annoying nerd you have to quarantine with.” Peter rolled his eyes and gave a one-sided shrug, as if trying to gloss over what he actually meant.  _ Sorry it’s me. _

Really, what did Peter expect him to say to that?  _ Yeah, that was pretty shitty, Iron Man’s my favorite hero now, sorry not sorry!  _ He huffed.  _ As if. _ “You’re kidding me, right? I got to spend weeks watching our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man scrambling to hide his identity, got to watch his and Tony Stark’s awkward and maybe  _ slightly _ adorable relationship,  _ and _ had him lose spectacularly against me in Mario Kart  _ several _ times. Who can claim that for themself?”

Harley couldn’t read the expression on Peter’s face as he looked up at him. At least he didn’t look as if he wanted to murder him anymore. “Wait,” he said then, squinting. “So, you knew about my enhanced senses when you pranked me?”

The grin slipped off his face. “Oh no, shit, I’m so sorry!” He looked at him in shock. “Was it bad?”

“Well, my ears rang after it for two days straight,” Peter admitted.

“I’m really sorry.” But, hell, as sorry as he was, this was not really what he’d wanted to cover in this conversation, so he shifted on the mattress and said, “Anyway… now that  _ you _ know  _ I _ know… there actually are some questions that I’ve been dying to ask…”

Before he knew it, he had roped Peter into a re-telling of all of his greatest adventures under the mask. Finally it was there, the conversation he had delayed in favor of catching the perfect moment to triumphantly reveal that he’d known the entire time.

Yet, something wasn’t right. He wished for the intimacy they’d had before everything, that Peter would simply move over and lean against the headrest beside him, put his head on his shoulder and talk about random stories, but instead he was planted on the other end of the bed, his knees pressed up to his chest, staring at the blanket, talking about vultures and school trips as if he was reading from the white fabric.

“—and then I followed him to this abandoned warehouse—”

“Wow, okay, we both know it, I’m just gonna say it — that’s the most stupid idea you’ve ever had.”

Peter looked up, ripped out of his outline, and raised a brow. “You’ve known me for what? Two weeks?”

“Right, you’ve probably done a  _ lot _ more stupid things.”

Peter glared at him with a smile on his lips, but when Harley grinned back, Peter quickly glanced back at the bedspread again and began drawing his fingers up and down his arm, buried in thought. “Anyway, then Liz’ dad dropped the building on me and because I didn’t have the suit Mr. Stark gave me I had to lift it and then I followed him to get—”

“Wait, wait, what? He did  _ what? _ ” Harley stared at him in bewilderment.

“He took my suit away because I messed up with this ferry thing, didn’t I say that already?”

“No, yeah, you did. I mean—this vulture guy, he dropped a _ what _ on you?!”

“Uh, the warehouse I talked about?”

He blinked and slowly, he tried to put into words what seemed… well, crazy. “And you…  _ lifted  _ it?” 

Peter shrugged. And then he moved on, talking about how he brought a plane to the ground with his bare hands, and how this vulture guy almost killed himself but he was able to drag him out of the flames and thereby saved his life, and how Tony offered he’d become an  _ Avenger, _ but he  _ refused _ , and — okay he didn’t phrase it like that of course, all dramatic, more like,  _ the plane had to be stopped, Toomes could be saved though  _ — as if none of it was a big deal.

Peter Parker might just be even more courageous than Harley had thought. And he had to admit, it was kind of terrifying.  _ Annoying nerd, my ass. _

* 

Days passed. Peter came by often, but he didn’t spend as much time with him as Harley had expected with what Pepper had told him about the time he’d been unconscious. He would say, “mornin’, darlin’”, the same way he had done a hundred times before, but now Peter would just raise his hand to give this awkward wave where you only lift it up to your waist and drop it again immediately, and sat down next to the bed instead of rewarding him with a goofy smile. (He did blush though.) (Harley didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t.)

At times, he almost seemed normal, like he had momentarily forgotten about whatever it was that made him act like this. And then — when he would ask him stuff about Spider-Man or reference it in some way or when he would say nothing extraordinary at all — he flinched back sometimes, or looked away from him as if he were somewhere completely different.

The day after he’d woken up, Peter appeared in the doorframe, carrying Harley’s guitar. It was 8 p.m. and Harley sat up in his bed from where he had been lying for hours on end, engrossed in his phone.

“Hey,” he said, and looked at him and the instrument in his arms with raised brows.

“Hi.” Peter stepped closer and set the guitar down against the wall next to the bed. “You told me once that you play guitar to de-stress? And that it reminded you of home? So I thought…”

Harley’s heart beat faster. “Thank you, Pete.”

He couldn’t be imagining this completely. There was something between them, an anticipation, a pull, something that made him inhale heavily whenever Peter walked past him or touched him in a fleeting moment. Or a not so fleeting moment.

“No problem.” And off he was again. He almost called after him.

After two more days, he was finally allowed to move up to their floor again, and even though Helen told him he would be better off staying in bed or at least not moving around consistently, he was happy to be back in his room and finally out of the medbay. The floor had finally stopped to sway under his feet every time he stood up cautiously, and he’d even managed to move on from soup to fast food again. Everything almost felt normal again, except for Pepper and Tony’s visits and the fact that a breathing mask was stationed next to his bed for emergencies. And well, except for Peter. Always Peter.

*

Peter was falling. There was no ground under his feet, just air around him, rushing past him as he plummeted down, down, down. A weight was on his limbs, making him fall faster and faster, and making it even more impossible to stop his fall as he plunged towards what must be the end that would swallow him up. He wanted to curl up in a ball, make himself as small as possible, as he fell and fell, no web to cling himself to, nothing to cushion his collision with the ground as he made contact with it and his body jolted at the impact. He squeezed his eyes shut and the moment was gone.

There was dust in his eyes, and his nose, and his ears, everything was muted and unfocused. A pile of debris before him, like that of a collapsed building. There were metal pipes sticking out from the wreckage and cables emitting sparks. A figure on the ground. The heap of rubble was on top of them, surrounding them, as if they'd been seized by the building and engulfed completely.  _ Ben. _ Always Ben.

He tried to move towards the collapsed building, but it didn’t feel as if he was getting forward at all, as if he was walking on a treadmill, walking and walking but coming nowhere. A stumble and he fell, and the debris was gone and Ben was gone too, and then there was the cold concrete of the street under his legs and a warm body in his arms. He gripped Harley’s hand as he looked up at him, his light blue eyes locking with his for a moment, before he blinked and they seemed dazed, unable to focus on Peter.

Harley’s voice was thin and shaky, his chest heaving when he tried to fill his lungs with air, as he said one single word.

_ “Darlin’?” _

His hand was ripped out of his as the ground opened up around them and Harley fell. Peter didn’t. He watched as he fell down, down, down.

When Peter jolted awake, he was choking for air.

His room was dark and silent, his ragged breathing ripping through the night, in and out and in and out and all of it way too fast. Reaching out his arm, he turned on the lamp on his nightstand and fell back into the pillows, trying to focus on the patterns the light was casting on the ceiling.  _ In. And out. In. And out. _ Everything was fine.  _ In. And out. _ Everything was fine.  _ In. And out.  _ Right?

The sounds around him seemed muted, as if the dust was still sticking inside of his ears, when he shifted to untangle himself from his bedspread, rose from the bed and stumbled towards the door. He stepped out into the hallway, turning and exhaling shakily when he took in the thin streak of light under the door next to his.

Back in his room Peter sat down on the edge of the mattress and almost instinctively he reached out for his phone. While it was ringing, he cleaned his palms on his pajama pants, the sweat still sticking to them like the flashes of the dream. Yet, the scenes were already fading from his memory, just like they did every time, leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth and his curls sticking to his forehead.

“Hey, dude! What’s up?”

“Hey, Ned,” he greeted his best friend, hating the way his voice shook. “What are you doing?”

There was a brief pause. “Nothing much. My parents are still really busy, but my gran—you know the one with this Feng Shui hang-up—sent me those amazing cookies, a whole package of them. They’ve got a liquid chocolate core and all.” As if to confirm Peter’s perception of Ned’s slightly muffled voice on the other side of the line, he added, “I’m eating them right now to be honest.”

“Do you really have to stuff your face with delicious stuff right when I’m listening to you?” Peter groaned, already feeling his shoulder relaxing a bit. “That’s just unfair, dude.”

“Ha, sorry. Maybe I can ask her to send me the recipe?” Ned suggested. “You said Harley got into baking, maybe he can make them for you.”

His shoulders tensed up again. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Peter?”

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Was it bad?”

“What?”

“The nightmare.”

“What? What do you mean, I—”

“Peter. C’mon.”

He sighed. Trying to lie to Ned was as hard as it was completely useless because he knew all of his tells, even over the phone.  _ Why even try. _ “It wasn’t as bad as the ones right after,”—he stopped to take a few deep, shuddering breaths—“right after the incident. But it also wasn’t nice.”

“Ben?”

“Yeah.”

“May?”

“No.”

“...Harley?”

He bit his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“You do know it wasn’t your fault, right? Peter? It’s not like you funneled the gas inside the building. You got him out of there.” He sounded so certain, Peter almost believed him.

“I know. I can’t control what I dream of. Wouldn’t that be great? To only dream of things you want to dream of?” He knew it was a weak attempt to try and change the topic, but Ned wasn’t one to go on about something if he didn’t want to.

“Well, if everyone was only dreaming of stuff they want people wouldn’t want to ever wake up again, so I guess that wouldn’t be all that great. What would you dream of?” he questioned.

In spite of himself Peter let his mind wander, but interrupted his thoughts before they could go somewhere he didn’t want them to go. “I—I think I’m gonna go work in the lab for a bit.”

Ned inhaled, and Peter knew he wanted to argue, how he should rather go to bed instead of falling asleep in four hours with his head on the lab table, but he quickly moved on to stop him from doing so, “Thank you for picking up.”

“Don’t mention it. I miss you, dude.”

“Miss you too.”

“These cookies are  _ really _ good…”

“ _ Please _ stop showing of, I’m begging you.”

*

If Harley had to choose five things to take with him in case he were stranded on a desert island, one of them would be his guitar. He knew it sounded weird, but honestly, what are the chances of surviving all alone in the burning heat surrounded by endless ocean water anyway? No matter how sophisticatedly chosen those five things were. So why not take something that prevents you from dying of boredom of all things?

He’d learned to play the guitar when he was fourteen, in an act of  _ hey, if I’m ever invited to any parties I should have something to impress people with! _ motivation. The early stages were tougher than he expected — his fingers just weren’t made for all those acrobatics, even with all those years fiddling around with machine parts, and soon his fingertips were red and sore. But he kept on practicing, in his workshop, when he was stuck on a project, or late at night when everyone else had already gone to bed, and soon his fingers didn’t look all battered up anymore.

At some point he must have realized that he wasn’t going to impress anyone with his musical skills, much less at a party he wasn’t going to be invited to anyway — not that he wanted to in the first place. He didn’t care for what kind of reasons he’d started, he was just glad he had done so.

Once Abby had caught him getting emotional to an One Direction song (he couldn’t remember whether it was Story of my Life or Best Song Ever) and offhandedly commented that he actually had a ‘kinda not totally awful singing voice’ which led him to believe he was going to be the next Ed Sheeran for some months, until he realized that writing songs really wasn’t something worth engaging in. So he entered the cover business — though, he wasn’t sure if that phrasing was fitting, it wasn’t like it was a business if no one ever listened to his music. (Abby did sometimes when he let her, but she really didn’t count with her entire collection of playlists only consisting of songs by country singers.)

Now, he was sitting on the floor before the windows of his bedroom, his arm propped up on the guitar in his lap, and a melody swirling around in his mind. He’d done some school work in the morning and then joined Peter in the lab, peering up at him from his table from time to time. He was pretty sure he hadn’t left all day.

“Hey.” A voice sounded through the room and he turned, smiling at Peter as he walked over to him. “Do you mind?” 

Harley shook his head, and Peter sat down cross-legged next to him on the floor.

“What were you playing?” 

“Just some melodies that came to my mind.” He shrugged.

Peter nodded. He looked tired. Not something he saw on him often. “But you also play like, entire songs, right? I heard you sometimes … and your singing, but never like, really." Harley swallowed hard. If he had known that he certainly wouldn't have played anymore in here. "Would you…” Harley’s eyes widened, equally excited and panicked by what was obvious to come next. “Would you play something?”

“Uh, you mean … now? For you? I mean—” He shook his head to keep from rambling on. “Sure, I can, of course.”

He rubbed at the nape of his neck, looking down at his guitar as if it was an alien—but no, hey, this was his moment, wasn’t t? If there would ever be an opportunity to impress someone with his music, it was now.

*

“I just put it together a few days ago, before the … uh, thing. It’s not really good, I mean, it’s pretty different from the original. So, it’s … mediocre? Dunno, I mean—“ Harley rambled, his ears growing a red shade.

“Just play it please,” Peter interrupted his rambling, smiling amusedly despite himself.

“Oh—okay. Alright.”

Harley gulped noticeably and placed his fingers on the neck of the instrument and strummed once, and a squeaky tone escaped the strings. Peter scrunched up his face at the sound and Harley promptly did the same.

“Sorry, sorry, I just gotta…” he muttered and readjusted his fingers. He inhaled.

Then, Harley started to play again, quietly, and this time a melody sounded through the room, fast-paced and warm. (Peter didn’t play an instrument. He used to when he was a child, the recorder, but at some point his parents must’ve grown tired of the atrocious sounds and stopped him, which was probably for the best.) Harley’s hands were flying across the strings like they didn’t touch them at all, the stumble in the beginning seemingly long left behind.

Then, he started singing. His voice was deep, deeper than when he was speaking and kind of husky, the kind of voice Peter would like to listen to before going to bed. This was a whole lot different from when he had heard him sing as they were dancing in the living room, there was no adrenaline pumping through his veins and dizziness in his head from jumping so much, but just a silent room that was suddenly filled with the words that left his mouth.

Every time he sang,  _ Don’t be afraid my darlin’ _ Peter’s heart sank a bit. Unintentionally, a thought shot through his head.  _ He’s probably thinking of a girl he knows back in Tennessee. _

He hadn’t thought about it ever before and never asked, but honestly, Harley was intelligent, and empathetic, passionate, talented and charming, and funny, caring, and handsome, so the chances were quite high that he had a girlfriend, some blonde cowgirl from his town. He must’ve been missing her a lot, cooped up with him here in New York, while she was hours away from him. Of course he’d be covering a love song now. 

Peter shook his head and focused back on Harley in front of him. His hair was splayed over his forehead as his head was bent over the instrument, his only focus on the song he was playing. He watched as Harley took up another strumming pattern, mesmerized by the way he closed his eyes when his voice reached a higher tone, and the way he took up on speed again when he dived into the next passage. He gave it no thought as his breath hitched with the chorus and he couldn’t lift his gaze from him, caught up in the way his lips parted slightly when only the sounds of the guitar were filling the space around them, the way his voice trembled slightly on the last words and the way his hands rested on the instrument when the last chord faded away.

It wasn’t until Harley shifted in his sitting position, looking up at him as if he was waiting for the teacher to hand him back his evaluated assignment, that Peter snapped back to the moment.  _ What just happened? _

He swallowed, crossed his arms and uncrossed them again, all while Harley was still hugging the guitar to his chest, waiting for him to say something. “I mean... I—I don’t know the original,” he began, trying again to swallow down the knot in his throat and simply voice his thoughts, “but that was... pretty amazing.”

Wow. He should become a music critic.

“Thank you.” Harley smiled, the tension having left his expression despite the pathetic compliment. “You’re more into musical stuff, right?”

“I mean, usually yes, but that still—wait, how do you know that?”

Peter thought he saw Harley’s cheeks flush up as he winced slightly, and then stuttered out, “Uh, MJ told me.”

“You—You and MJ text each other?”

“Yeah? She’s pretty cool. She’s a lot more outgoing through text actually.”

“Yeah. I know.” He felt his forehead scrunching up in a frown, speechless for a second. “But... you know she’s. You know. Gay? And in a relationship?” His voice was high and squeaky and Peter didn’t know why but he knew he didn’t like this. Whatever this was.

“Uh, Peter? What…” Harley looked at him with squinted eyes as if he was out of his mind. Maybe he was. “Wait. You think I—you think I  _ like _ like her?”

“Well.” He shrugged, waiting for an answer.

“Just because we message each other doesn't mean—Why would I—" Harley chuckled, but he didn’t meet Peter’s gaze. “That’s not—that’s not even possible.”

“What do you mean?”

Harley knitted his eyebrows together and gave him a look that made Peter feel like he should know what he meant. When he didn’t say anything, Harley averted his eyes and began picking at a few strings before he shook his head and muted the guitar by pressing his fingers against them, inhaling deeply.

“I’m gay, Peter.”

Harley looked up at him finally, but now Peter wished he didn’t, because the expression on his own face probably wasn’t the most … intelligent. He blinked.

“You—” he choked out, slight panic surging through his body as any useful words left him completely, “—gay?”

“Yeah.” Harley huffed out a laugh, more nervous than anything else. “Me gay.”

„Oh.”  _ Oh god, say something. Anything. _ “I—I didn’t know—”

“That people from Tennessee can be gay? I can definitely prove that wrong.” 

Peter tried a smile.

“Besides — apart from the fact that both MJ and I … well, swing the other way — I kind of have my eyes on someone else.”

“But—you have a girl—a boyfriend?”

“What?” He frowned. “I do? Interesting,” Harley chuckled, half amused, half confused. “Why would you think that?”

“I mean—you … it seemed as if you were singing that song for someone, didn’t you? You looked as if there was someone who… well...”

“Yes,” Harley said slowly, “you’re right. But that doesn’t mean he’s interested in me, y'know. Ever heard of unrequited,”—he paused for a second—”unrequited crushes?”

“Oh. Yes. I mean—I‘m sorry." He bit on his lower lip before he spoke again. "Really. I shouldn’t... I shouldn't have assumed anything,” he stuttered out. He was really out here today making a habit of putting his foot in it. This entire conversation was a wreck.

“It’s fine.” Harley gave a tight-lipped smile and shot him a strange look before beginning to observe his guitar again as if it was the most fascinating object in the room.

“I  _ did _ tell you I thought Spider-Man was hot though?”

“Oh. Well, yeah,” Peter said while he could feel his cheeks going up in flames. “But I thought you meant like, objectively.”

Harley laughed again.

Okay, what. That meant Harley had a crush on Spider-Man. No, okay, he just said he thought he was attractive. And the coolest Avenger. Which meant—no, it wasn’t like Spider-Man was  _ him _ , like directly, so it wasn’t as if—as if—anyways, this was okay, wasn’t it? No big deal. Flattering, sure, but nothing more. Right. Next topic.

“And did you... you know, tell someone?”

“You mean whether I came out to someone?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah. That.”

Harley’s eyes shifted to the windows, his lips pressed together as if he wouldn’t answer at all, but then he began to talk. “Huh. Abby knows, of course. But apart from that… my parents—I think my dad kinda suspected it, but he never—I mean, when he left I was so young anyway, so it’s not like he talked to me about it, not that he would’ve ever. And my mom, she’s—I guess she knows, but she’s never—I have never—”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Harley said. “I just, I’ve never told her at least. I was scared because… she’s not the most… liberal person. Still Tennessee, y’know? Oh, and then there are these people from school—” He stopped himself, gripping his guitar as if shielding himself from something that wasn’t there. “But I don’t need them to accept me or anything anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Peter didn't know what to say. “People are jerks, aren’t they?”

“They always are.” He shrugged, and Peter felt the urge to lean over and hug him, but stopped himself when Harley spoke again. “You’re not though. A jerk, I mean.”

“Thanks.” He felt stupid, about himself, about everything, as he looked down at the floor he was still sitting on, so damn clueless about everything. He had never really asked about how things were back in Tennessee, in his school or at—

“Peter?”

“Mhm.”

“That song… I maybe—no, not maybe. I—” Harley shook his head and closed his eyes. Peter furrowed his brows. “So, you said how I was… how it seemed like I was, uh, singing that for someone? And I think you should know… Well. That. You know, I—” 

And then Harley turned his gaze towards him again, apparently having given up on trying to get out a coherent sentence, but in the matter of a second, when their eyes locked and Harley was looking at him with this certain tinge of hopefulness in his eyes, Peter realized what he was trying to tell him and he felt his heart rate pick up when Harley glanced down at his lips, but maybe he only did it because Peter parted them in that moment.

“I’m straight!” he blurted out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you're grateful I didn't leave you with this chapter for two weeks right? hah
> 
> Oh and yes, to the person who did the math on just how old Peter called Tony when they pulled a prank on him (it's apparently 490), I don’t know if you’re still around, but you seem to like numbers, so I just wanted to tell you that Peter used exactly eight adjectives to describe why Harley would of course have a girlfriend! you’re welcome<3


	19. for one fleeting moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. writing this beginning physically hurt me, maybe that gives you some kind of satisfaction  
> 2\. the tag wingman!mj is going strong in this chapter  
> And 3. I love you all<3  
> Peter being an absolute dumbass and all of us feeling sorry for Harley because he has to put up with him in 3, 2, 1...

“Oh.”

_So much for impressing him with my music skills,_ strangely was the first thought that shot through his head as Peter blurted out the two words that made his heart plummet through his chest, down until it hit the ground, cracking at the contact.

“You—But...” Just a moment before his heart had started to beat faster, this dizzy and expectant feeling making him forget about what he’d been worrying about for most of the past weeks. Now, he felt deflated, like a hot-air balloon losing height, consistently and fast.

“You are?”

Peter looked at him, and when he saw the complete bewilderment in his eyes, the hot-air balloon met the ground. “Yeah. Of course.”

Trying to regain his posture, Harley forced a nonchalant smile onto his face. It was shaky, overwhelmed with the situation, but he kept it there. “Of course. Yeah. Of course,” he said.

Of course he was straight. There was no anticipation, no pull, no _something_ between them — there was just Harley Keener, gay hopeless romantic extraordinaire, imagining and dreaming until he couldn’t differentiate between reality and fantasy. Of course Harley would take out his heart, write _GAY_ across it in big awful letters and shove it into Peter’s arms, only to have him flinch back in disgust and shove it right back into his chest. Of course he would be straight. _Of course._

“I—Okay.”

He wanted to cry a little bit.

“Y’know, I’m... I think I’m gonna…” He motioned to the door.

Peter nodded and he pushed himself up from the ground, pausing for a moment when he stood, waiting for Peter to say something, anything, to take it back. He didn't. He just stared at the place he’d been sitting just seconds before, his eyes transfixed.

Harley swallowed, took the few steps towards the door and disappeared, the guitar still pressed to his chest. He was afraid he would fall apart if he let go of it.

*

The earth was still moving. People were working out in their living rooms, trying to get their kids under control, at least reaching out to move on to the next episode. But Harley, he was not moving. He was lying on top of the comforter of the bed in one of the guest rooms, staring up at the ceiling as if at some point Peter would burst in and say, _Hah, it was just a joke I love you too!_ He’d been wanting to leave his bed for days and now that he was finally allowed to do so, he’d rather do nothing else than bury his face in the strange and cold pillows.

He sighed, the heavy kind, where you hope to breathe out all of your sorrows.

And because he didn’t know what you’re supposed to do when you just realized you fell for a straight guy, and because he was also very stupid and self-pitying, he took out his phone and typed a name into the search bar on Instagram. _Liz Allan._ A name both MJ and Peter had mentioned -- the girl he went to prom with. Or tried to, at least. (And yep, you’re completely right, this is probably the _one_ thing you should definitely _not_ do when you just realized you fell for said straight guy.) The account loaded, and Harley almost choked on his tongue. Tan skin, long legs, big lips, and a gorgeous smile — he was as gay as it gets, but even he could recognize a beautiful girl when he saw one.

All he got were distinct cowboy vibes and questionable flirting techniques.

Wow, he was so bad at this. He closed the app and shoved the phone onto the nightstand, trying to think of anything he could do other than putting himself down over this.

He thought about trying to bake something, but then he realized that he would have to go to the kitchen for that, and he really didn’t want to face Peter. He would rather his teachers droning on for hours on end about stuff he already knew anyway. And then, he did the only thing he still knew how to do. He called his little sister.

With every ring that pierced the silence in the room, Harley felt himself curl in on himself more and more. What was he going to do when she didn’t pick up the phone?

“Harls! Hey, what’s up? Some old lady just brought in this _unbelievably_ cute puppy and he has the _craziest_ soft fur I literally can’t even—”

“He’s straight,” he broke out, as if he was ripping off a plaster.

There was a moment of silence where Abby seemed to register what he’d said, or maybe she didn’t register anything at all, because all he heard next was a huff of air coming from the other side of the line. “What?”

“Peter. He told me.”

“I—wait, what. I think I’m not keeping up. Peter. Said he’s straight? _Peter,”_ she said, dragging out his name. “Your Peter?”

“Yeah, just go on, make it even worse…” he muttered.

“I just—sorry, I don’t think we’re talkin’ about the same person. I’m talking about _the_ Peter who stayed by your side for three days and nights if I remember correctly?”

“That’s because he’s a nice person! He’s always _so_ nice and he saves kittens from trees and people from burning buildings or me from some attack. And he’s sweet and caring and responsible and he’s--” His voice caught up in his throat, wanting to say, _perfect,_ but what he finally said was, “ _straight.”_

And then he croaked out, “Sorry,” and ended the call. He didn’t want to cry because of this. It wasn’t like he’d really been rejected, it wasn't like Peter was _trying_ to hurt him. He was straight, end of the story. And honestly, this was better than being rejected because of, well, being _you_ , or not? Being rejected because of which sign on the door you follow when you really have to pee is really not all that bad. Except that thought didn’t make it hurt any less.

A text illuminated his phone on his chest.

**Abby:** oh harley

 **Abby:** im so sorry

 **Abby:** you deserve better than him anyway

**Harley:** and what would that be

 **Harley:** better than him?

*

**Peter:** harley is gay

_What a nice message to wake up to after a peaceful late afternoon nap_ , MJ thought. Yes, she took naps in the middle of the day during quarantine, don’t judge. As long as you don’t doze off for any longer than twenty to thirty minutes the name ‘power nap’ actually makes sense and is supposed to help improve mood, alertness and performance. She was still not sure whether all those listed positive effects actually occurred (she’d found video calls with Shuri to be much more mood-lifting), but she somehow acquired a liking for the daily reason to not have her family dogging her all the time.

As unasked-for and blunt as Peter’s text was — MJ couldn’t help but smile at her phone screen. Apparently they had figured stuff out between them. Peter and Harley’s pining had been intolerable, and she wasn’t even living with them — Shuri and her had never been as disgusting as them. At least not anywhere but behind closed doors.

Ned apparently didn’t have anything better to do with his time than reading Peter’s out-of-nowhere news update either, because soon a new text flared up on her phone.

**Ned:** no shit sherlock

**Peter:** fuck you watson

MJ rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered why she didn’t faint of dizziness as often as she had to do that on a daily basis with those two losers at her side.

**Peter:** so you knew??

 **Peter:** what am i supposed to do now?

Oh god. Really now? They hadn’t figured anything out after all, had they? She buried her face in one of her pillows again, shaking her head into it, before she sighed and lifted it again.

**MJ:** What do you want to hear, burn him at the stake.

**Peter:** not funny

**MJ:** Peter. I have a very limited supply of fucks to give and I am not going to waste them on your dumbassery.

**Peter:** that hurt:(

And even though Peter sent this type of texts all the time and these soulless points and brackets never provoked any emotions in her, she felt her face scrunch up when she took in the sad smiley and wondered whether there might be more to this than Peter being in his usual clueless state. But before she could broach the subject again and take up a failure analysis, another text appeared above the chat that gave her the same kind of sick feeling in her gut she got when she lost against someone at chess. 

**Harley:** why didnt you just tell me he was straight?

Okay, maybe she should perform some damage control instead. She tapped on the new message.

**MJ:** Do you mean Peter?

 **MJ:** Did he say that?

**Harley:** yes. more like blurted it out to keep me from confessing my feelings

 **Harley:** why didn’t you say i didnt have a chance to begin with?

Even from miles apart she could hear his heart break when he typed out these messages. But that didn’t mean they were making any sense. What was even going on?

**MJ:** because its not true

 **MJ:** harley. hes not straight. i know that.

**Harley:** but why would he tell me he is then?

He didn’t send another text and she was quite sure she knew what he was thinking right in this moment. Quickly, she typed out another response.

**MJ:** NO harley dont even try and talk yourself into it. he likes you. he didnt tell you taht to keep you away

**Harley:** how do you know?

 **Harley:** if youre saying hes not straight then thats the only possible explanation

 **Harley:** its fine

 **Harley:** its not like things wouldve worked out anyway

 **Harley:** not his fault that i got it into my head that he liked me

**MJ:** stop it. stop whining about sth you dont even know is the case

 **MJ:** im going to call him

She saw his speech bubble popping up, the three points jumping up and down aggressively, but before she could receive another text whose contents of inhibition she knew were to come anyway, she turned the phone off and put it on her bedside table face-down.

First, she was going to get herself a coffee, and then she would save these two absolute idiots from making one step further towards the biggest mistake of their lives.

*

Peter was sitting on the floor of Harley’s room, his back against the windows, knees pressed up to his chest and his eyes trained steadily on the place Harley had been sitting just a few moments ago. Or maybe it had been much longer, he couldn't tell. It was like someone had hit the pause button on his life, and now there was only this spinning wheel icon, rushing to close itself but never quite managing to, loading, loading, loading until someone would hit play again.

And then someone did. His phone rang.

He cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice still sounded raspy and odd. “Hey MJ. What are you—Why are you calling?”

“Hey Loser. I’m calling because you are being an idiot.”

“Um—Okay? Why again?” He really wasn’t sure if he could put up with whatever she was on about right now.

“Because you told your boyfriend of more than two weeks that you were straight? Does that ring a bell?”

“What? Harley isn’t—”

“Peter, stop this bullshit! Please tell me what’s going on or I will personally come over to the tower, fuck the regulations.”

“How do you—How do you even know about that?”

“I have my ways.” She sounded fed-up, as if it was an awful imposition to have to put up with him. “Now, would you like to tell me why you’re going around queerbaiting Harley? You were bisexual last time I checked.”

“I—what? Yes, I am. Nothing’s changed about that.”

“So what? You just chickened out?”

“I… chickened out? Of what?”

She scoffed. “Uh, of telling him you like him?”

“I don’t think I understand.”

There’s a pause. “Oh shit. Did you not figure that out yet? Not at all? I didn’t mean to, like, tell you,” she deadpanned. “You think it’s time for this conversation?”

“Um. What,” he said, his eyes now blown open wide. Did she mean… _Me? Liking Harley? Yeah, right._ “I guess I… might need some explanations,” he said, shaking his head in confusion.

“Okay,” she said, sounding far too elated for his liking. “You want the list alphabetically or chronologically? Ah, forget about that I think I couldn’t fit it all on a paper anymore.” She broke off, but Peter’s brain hadn’t quite caught up so far yet as to investigate what exactly was funny about that and much less to laugh about it, so she continued. “First off, he’s hot. No, don’t look like that—”

“You can’t even see my face!”

“—and I still know what face you just made. I’m a lesbian and I know he’s hot, so don’t argue with me on this. Oh and you said he’s hot too, remember? _Objectively,_ you said. Second, you’re constantly talking about him. You literally cuddled with him when we had this movie marathon and you spent like half of the night looking over at him to check whether he was enjoying it. On his birthday you—”

At this point Peter felt himself space out, his eyes shifting to the ceiling as he leaned his head back against the cold glass. He had to think back to that night of the roof, right before the— right before things went wrong. How Harley sat there, wrapped up in about a dozen blankets, asking him to make one selfish wish, completely positive that he hadn’t wished for something that was only for himself with the wish he’d gifted him before. He thought back to how easily the wish had formed in his head, sent off into the night sky without a second thought.

How, just a few seconds after, he’d turned to the boy next to him, and how he’d leaned in, not even fully comprehending what he was about to do, just knowing that he’d rather look at Harley than the stars right above.

And then, like a herd of mad villagers with hay forks and torches kicking in the werewolf’s door that had infiltrated their peaceful village, the memory was interrupted. And now there was how FRIDAY’s alarm had ripped through the night, and less than an hour later, he’d seen Harley on a hospital bed, Harley surrounded by medics, his eyes closed, Harley unmoving.

“Hold up, MJ.” She stopped, her rant cut off by his sudden demand. “That list—It doesn’t matter, okay? I… I don’t like him that way. I don’t.” He heard her inhale, getting ready to shower him with another fifty reasons, but he was faster. “I just can’t get him hurt again. I _can’t_. And he’s going to if I were to—But I don’t. I don’t like him that way anyway, so it’s all fine.”

“What do you mean? Is this… because of the attack on the tower?”

“This is just what happens when you’re around people like Mr. Stark and me,” he said, wanting to sound sober and sure, but only coming off defensive.

“But the attack wasn’t because of you, Peter, no one knows you’re Spider-Man,” she said doubtfully. “Why would Harley be in danger because of you?”

He inhaled sharply. _Why didn’t she get it? Why was it so hard to understand that he’d become a target sooner or later? And that Harley would be right there in the bull’s eye if he didn’t do something about it?_ “Let me just…” He tried to catch his breath. “The _last_ time I had to take care of him I _couldn't_ handle the situation,” he croaked out. “I couldn't even handle my own panic, and that was the entire reason why Harley was harmed in the first place.” He wrapped his arm around himself, forcing himself to go on.

“And you know as well as I do that things aren’t gonna stay this way. At some point people _are_ going to find out, or I’ll have to reveal my identity and then it’ll be the same way for me that it is for Mr. Stark,” he insisted, a tremble lacing his words. “People get hurt in his vicinity, it’s been like that for as long as he’s been Iron Man. Even if being with me wasn’t a danger right now, it _will_ be.”

He inhaled, waiting for MJ to say something. He wasn’t sure what he wanted her to reply, but if he had to bet on it he’d say she would begin to argue. But when she finally spoke up, he couldn’t find a hint of confusion in her tone anymore. “That’s why you told him you were straight. That’s the reason, right? So that he would stay away from you,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

“I—what? Um. Maybe,” he conceded. “But not because I… because I have a crush on him or—”

MJ groaned. “Just cut it. I’m not buying your bullshit,” she commanded, and he fell silent.

“You’re having nightmares again, don’t you? Like back when this guy dropped a building on you?”

He blinked, blindsided by the sudden softness of her words. Usually, it was Ned who he talked to about that type of stuff, about Uncle Ben ones or episodes about the Vulture and times everything mixed up into a dreadful combination of all of them — he didn’t even know she was aware of him having those. “So… yes, but why—”

“Why didn’t you,” she sighed, starting again. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

“I—I didn’t want to whine about it to you,” he mumbled. “I always make things up to be so much more than they actually are and I worry so much and I didn’t want to disturb you with—”

“This is because of my text isn’t it? I mean, things like that that I say sometimes. About how I wasn’t going to waste my fucks to give on you?”

Peter nodded hesitantly, and even though MJ of course couldn’t see him, she was still MJ, and of course she knew what he was doing. 

“I’m sorry, Peter. For making you feel like you can’t come to me with this stuff. I do care. A lot.”

And despite everything that was going on, Peter couldn’t help but break into a genuine smile. Moments like this were precious with his friend and he’d deserve to go to hell if he were to not appreciate them.

“You can't keep on bottling all of this up, you got to… talk to people. I know I’m not the best example for that. But you can whine to me about everything. I’m actually really good at handling things like this.”

Peter huffed out a laugh, but it was this wet kind of laugh that makes your throat close up, so he quickly shut up again.

“So… what’s your plan now?”

“My plan? What plan?”

“What are you gonna do? You can only figure this out on your own, you know? No matter how you decide or how you think you feel about him, don’t you think he deserves an explanation?”

“I—I don’t know,” he said. “He just disappeared, so I guess he doesn’t want to talk to me at all or… he didn’t mean all of it this way—”

“Peter Parker,” she cut in. “What the hell do you think is he going through right now? He _adores_ you. And you just told him you’re straight. What do you think is he doing right now other than completely freaking out?”

His heart skipped a beat when he heard her words. “So… he really does like me? In that way?”

The frustrated groan MJ heaved at that could’ve triggered an avalanche, Peter was sure of it. “ _Why_ are you so _goddamn_ dense, Peter? Seriously? You’re being serious, aren’t you?”

“I—sorry, but I didn’t really left him any time to explain himself—”

She sighed. “I’m going to end this call now, alright? And you are going to sit down and think about everything that we’ve talked about. And then you are going to do something about it. Can I trust you on this?”

He knew she was mocking him, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to argue with her. “Thank you, MJ. For… calling. And talking.”

“You’re welcome, Loser. Don’t do anything stupid. We’ve had enough of that for today.” And before he could even say goodbye, she’d ended the call. He let the phone slip down from his ear and put it down on the floor beside him.

Almost immediately, he found himself wanting to call her back again. When she was right there talking to him everything had seemed so easy, like he just had to listen to her and then he was going to think things through and the manual on his next steps would be handed to him on a silver platter. Now, alone again, the steps he had to take next weren’t all that obvious.

He liked being Harley’s friend. Friends were okay. He had MJ and Ned and Shuri — and none of them had gotten hurt because of him, right? Well, Ned had almost crashed to death inside the elevator of the Washington Monument — and had carried around a deathly alien stone thingy in his backpack for a day — and then he had to protect Peter when he was being beat up in the school parking lot. But in the grand scheme of things having Harley as a friend wasn’t going to hurt him, if he just kept him out of all his superhero stuff, right? It wasn’t like he could just stop hanging out with him anyway.

But then, when Harley had looked at him with this enormous weight of hope in his eyes, he’d wanted to say a thousand things, all at the same time, all leading up to … But he didn’t. Instead, thoughts had come rushing into his head like a bull in a china shop in those seconds that Harley gazed at him, the image of Ben under the ruins of the warehouse, and then, unwelcomed, absolutely unneeded, the image of Harley falling, down, and down, and down, and then himself, _Spider-Man_ , unable to do anything about it. He messed up, the way he always did, and said the one thing he knew would make Harley flinch back.

And he _did_ flinch back, at the same time the hopefulness disappeared from his eyes like a candle that someone had blown out. That _he_ had blown out.

He let his head come to rest on his knees, pulling them even tighter to his chest.

He had messed up big time, that much was clear. And that hurt. He wanted to go back to the beginning and do it all again. He wanted to meet Harley for the first time again — tools in his hands when he’d turned and taken in the blond boy standing in the doorframe with his wide blue eyes, completely baffled by the enormous lab in front of him until his gaze had come to rest on Peter and never really left again — and maybe it did have to do with the opportunity to feel Harley kiss him again, even if only for one fleeting moment.

Maybe Peter would kiss him back if he got a second chance. He saw it right before his eyes — the way Harley would smile at him softly with this tinge of hopefulness in his gaze, the way he would have to lean down to him to slowly connect their lips, gentle and sweet, and the way his hands would come up to his cheeks and his mouth would move against his, stopping him from saying things he didn't mean, and the way Peter would finally get to run his hands through Harley’s perpetual bed head. Peter closed his eyes. He wanted to—

_Wait, what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends. Hah. Right.
> 
> (I don't want to raise your expectations or something but I've been excited for the next chapter for some time now and I just-- :))


	20. one big slimy smoothie of chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I was kind of drained of all energy for the last weeks and I just couldn't get myself to write, but now I finally got it done. I have this really important presentation coming up tomorrow but as soon as I'm done with that I'll post the next chapter, so look out for that<3

His eyes snapped open again.

_Hold up. When did this happen?_ Why did he—why was he even thinking about this? Why would he want to _kiss Harley?_ He’d know if he’d want to do that, right? Right. That’s just something you know — whether you want to kiss someone. Because kissing someone means more than just _kissing,_ or well, at least it did for Peter, not that he knew much (or anything really) about it. Kissing someone meant that you trusted them, that they were something _more_ to you than just a pair of lips to connect yours with. A kiss was a promise and a plea at the same time.

But maybe he was wrong — he definitely just thought about kissing Harley. And he liked it.

So maybe a kiss didn’t have to be more than a kiss, maybe he was being dramatic again and all these feelings swelling up inside of him weren’t as exceeding and worldshaking as they seemed to him in that moment.

Although they didn’t feel all that worldshaking anyway, did they? This idea of Harley, not his temporary housemate, not his mentor’s other science kid, not even his new best friend, it didn’t feel all that strange, did it? This idea of Harley being something _more?_

_No._ He shook his head. He was being selfish. There was a reason he told Harley he was straight, and he couldn’t just throw that overboard, right? Just. _No._ He couldn’t go and flat-out lie to Harley about his sexuality to keep him away and then fantasize about kissing him.

Or holding his hand while a movie is playing.

Or getting to fall asleep on his shoulder regularly.

Peter groaned. It was like he’d flipped a switch in his head, and now that this idea of Harley had popped up once, he couldn’t get it out anymore. And being honest, he also didn’t really want to.

This time, he didn’t stop himself.

He wanted to kiss Harley. This was pretty indisputable by now. And maybe... maybe he wanted it to be more than just a kiss.

So? It wasn’t like he was going to get snatched away as soon as Peter talked to Harley, right? _Don’t overthink this. Just don’t._

Peter pushed himself up from the ground, and he walked across the room, opened the door and walked out, and he walked along the hall towards the living area, and all of it he did fast, afraid his courage might leave him if he slowed down for just one second.

*

Harley was not having the time of his life right now.

Those last days he’d felt like he’d been right in the middle of it — the time of his life. First, he’d come to New York, and he felt like the world was at his feet, and hey, he would be able to put up with whoever that personal intern was that Tony was talking about all the time.

Somehow things had ended up going completely different than expected, and somehow they had gone better, so, _so_ much better. Because there was this boy, and he wasn’t arrogant or annoying at all, and they were goofing around, and Harley just really, _really_ liked him.

Now, there wasn’t much left of that feeling, now that he was sitting on the couch of the penthouse, drowning himself in the fabric of his sweater and an episode of Scooby Doo, waiting for the probably most awkward dinner he’d ever have in his life. After some time of pitying himself in the guest bedroom he decided that he couldn’t stay in there for any longer. (And also, he was just very hungry.) He’d ordered food and texted Peter, hoping sincerely that Peter wouldn’t block him or something.

Since he’d send the message five minutes ago and the journey time from their bedrooms to the living area took approximately five seconds, he figured Peter wouldn’t come though.

He wasn’t going to hold it against him, seriously. What would _he_ do if a girl were to kinda ask him out after they’d spent so much time together being nothing more than friends? (Okay, maybe he wouldn’t ghost her and ignore her texts. More like laugh awkwardly in response.) (Actually, he was grateful Peter hadn’t done _that_.)

Okay then, it seemed like he was dining alone today. He reached to the coffee table and picked up his food that had almost gone cold already. The moment he took the first bite though, Peter came rushing into the living area — Harley’s plate almost slipped into his lap when their eyes locked, and the boy stumbled to a halt halfway into the room, his eyes wide like those of a deer caught in the headlights. _Look who decided to turn up,_ he wanted to say, but then he saw the way Peter swallowed noticeably and bit his lower lip, he quickly looked back to his food, breaking their eye contact.

“I got you the one with sesame chicken and fried rice,” he remarked quietly, hyper aware of Peter moving towards the couch cautiously, as if he was afraid Harley would stick him up if he left him unobserved for one second.

“Thank you,” was the small answer he received when Peter sat down and picked up his plate, his own gaze trained on the TV screen firmly and lips pressed together into a thin line.

It didn’t seem like they were going to talk about it. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Relieved? Anxious? Usually, they never spent more than a few minutes together without talking about anything.

He tried to focus on the show when Peter started eating silently and for some minutes he _almost_ found himself forgetting about the situation they were in. It felt normal, just like so many times before — well, except for this tense silence surrounding them like an unwanted audience.

He felt frustration bubbling up in his chest. He’d done a lot of worrying those last hours — he’d assumed things would be awkward, that their relationship would change, but he hadn’t let himself think about the possibility that Peter could be so grossed out by him that he’d cut him off entirely.

Should he… _apologize?_ He wasn’t sure. Why would he need to, exactly? It wasn’t his fault that he felt the way he did and he definitely didn’t mean for things to go the way they did, so why would he need to apologize? Harley really wished there was a manual on this.

A few minutes later Peter set down his now empty plate and instantly settled back into the couch. Harley (whose plate was still half-filled) had almost expected him to disappear again as soon as he was finished, but he’d also assumed he wouldn’t come at all, so he couldn’t really call himself an expert on Peter’s prospective actions at the moment anyway.

Way too soon, the episode was over and the room was filled with an unadulterated kind of silence, with the characters’ voices faded away. The silence was piercing, itching inside his head.

Harley was trying to scrape together the last remnants of his food as silently as possible, avoiding to draw Peter’s attention as best he could. Finally, he was done and leaned over to set aside his plate as well, sneaking a side glance at the boy at the other end of the couch— only to find Peter already looking at him.

He winced and gave a surprised cough, Peter’s eyes twitching away from him in an instant. _Wait. What?_ He stayed sitting stiffly, staring back at the TV mesmerized, feeling a bit dumbstruck by the unexpected eye contact. Peter couldn’t just not say a word the entire evening and then stare at him like this, that wasn’t fair. But hey, nothing about this was fair, so it wasn’t like it didn’t add up, right? This morning when he’d woken up he thought that maybe he would dare to greet Peter with _mornin’, beautiful_ instead of the usual _mornin’, darlin’_ — just to see how he would react — but then he’d decided against it because he was way too nervous and he was sure he’d have enough time to do so some other day anyway. Now all of that seemed so far away, like a distant—

“That’s beautiful.”

Harley almost jumped in his seat, only then realizing that Peter wasn’t next to him anymore, but that he had risen to his feet and was now standing in front of the windows, his silhouette enframed by the warm colors of the sunset on the horizon.

Okay, this was just cruel now. Harley almost rolled his eyes at the perfection of the image before him, but in order to do that he’d have to lift his eyes from it and he definitely wasn't going to do that.

_Of course_ the universe decided to set up the most movie-like cliché sunset view on the worst day of his life ever, and _of course_ Peter's curls would have to be illuminated by the light coming from the windows, the colorful light casting a red shade onto his features.

Harley couldn’t help but stand up as well, pulled closer effortlessly by the scene in front of him, and came to a halt just a few steps behind the younger boy. (And if he found his thoughts wandering off to a pretty similar situation just about two weeks ago, no one had to know.)

“I could get used to that sort of view,” he whispered, and yep, he definitely didn’t mean the sky, sue him. Only when Peter turned back to him though, his brown eyes tinged with a rosy hue, and the soft smile playing around his lips slipped off of them, he realized that his eyes were still trained on him. He ripped his gaze away, cursing himself inwardly. _Oh god,_ why did he keep doing this? Maneuvering himself into ridiculous situations just because he was incapable of using his brain for something else than pining?

*

“Sorry. Forget I said that. Just. Sorry.”

Harley’s eyes clamped shut and his brows scrunched up, and Peter wanted to tell him, _No, you don’t have to be sorry when I’m the one who messed up_ , but he couldn’t open his mouth to spit out the words.

“I’m sorry. I… It’s okay for me that we’re just friends, okay?” Harley croaked out, “I’m not mad at you or anything, that would be crappy. I just gotta get used to—”

“No!”

Peter’s eyes widened, surprised by his own interruption. He turned his full body towards Harley, but like a magnet being revolted by another, Harley took a few steps backward at the same time. Peter almost pulled him back in.

“What?”

“No,” Peter repeated, his voice tight, unsure what he was going to say next. “I don’t. I don't want us to be friends.”

Harley took another step away from him, staring at him for a few seconds before he shook his head in confusion. “Excuse me? Are you sayin’—You—” The corners of his mouth were twitching downward when he broke off. “Just because I have… _feelings_ for you, you just want to—what? Erase the last weeks?”

Peter felt his stomach drop when he realized his mistake. “No! Oh my God, no, you… you misunderstood! I didn’t—”

“That seems to happen a lot lately.” Harley huffed out a bitter laugh. 

Peter shook his head vehemently. “Please! Let me explain.” What exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that he needed to, especially after he failed so miserably at even opening his mouth all throughout dinner after he’d unexpectedly locked eyes with Harley for just a fraction of a second.

Harley gave a one-sided shrug. “I’m listenin’.”

“Okay.” Peter looked down at the floor, his hands twisting the fabric of his sleeves. “I’ve been thinking… or rather, MJ told me—” Harley huffed, but Peter chose to ignore him, “—she, she said that earlier, that I was just…”

While he was talking, it was like he was ticking off boxes in his head, one by one by one. It all made sense. Why he’d found himself flinching back when they came close or staying silent when he called him Darlin’. Because that’s just the type of idiotic things Peter Parker ended up doing when he didn’t know what else to do. And if in that moment Peter couldn’t bring himself to care one tiny bit about his reasons to push him back before, maybe it was for the best.

“She said that I was just trying to keep you at a distance, okay? And I think she’s right about that. I—I was lying. I didn’t—” he groaned and started again, “When I told you I was straight? I’m not straight, okay? I’m bi.”

But at the same time that things started to fall into place for him, Harley was looking at him with the most bewildered expression he’d ever seen on him, even more bewildered than that time he’d found him sticking to the ceiling.

Peter wrung his hands, unsettled by Harley’s lingering stare. There was still one more thing he needed to explain, although he wasn’t sure whether he could even explain it to himself, since the thought had first consciously crossed his mind about twenty minutes ago. And that really didn’t help the situation at all.

“But… but why didn’t you just tell me that?” Harley broke out before Peter could think of anything. “That’s an _extremely_ shitty way to ‘keep me at a distance.’”

Peter shrank back when Harley raised his voice, his frustration crashing over him like a wave. Why did Harley have to get angry at him now, when he was _just_ about to explain everything? “It’s not—It’s not like you left me any time to come up with something better when you just sprung that on me!”

“Oh, _come on!”_ Harley scoffed. _“Everything_ would’ve been better than that! _”_ With a few rather determined strides, Harley began to close the distance between them. If anything, he was looking more pained than angry. “And I didn't spring anything on you! You can’t pretend I haven't been giving you hints all over the place!” he glowered. “And I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Yeah, well, apparently your hints were terrible, because _I_ didn't know!” Peter protested as he backed up against the glass walls.

“You’re kidding me, aren’t ya? When I told you Spider-Man was hot? When I _kissed_ you?” Harley advanced towards him with every sentence he burst out. “I call you _darlin’_ dammit! Do you think I just go around callin’ dudes Darlin’?! How on earth can anybody be _so oblivious_?” He came to a stop just a few steps away from Peter, his jaw set and eyes darkened.

Peter was fumbling for words for some seconds, trying to defend himself, but he was suddenly distracted by Harley’s breath brushing over his face. He just couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head.

*

Harley’s head was filled up to the rim with words and incoherent explanations and desperation, all swirling up into one big slimy smoothie of chaos. One thing he knew for sure though, was that if Peter kept on hissing at him with this pretty, _bisexual_ mouth of his, he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer.

But he was still angry, and frustrated, and sad, so, _so_ sad, and why did Peter have to look at him with those fucking beautiful puppy dog eyes too now? They were pleading and desperate, and God, Harley just couldn’t take it.

He should’ve taken the chance and stuffed all his feelings into a bucket when he still had the chance.

“That’s— that’s not the point!” Peter urged, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes for a second. The boy took a step forward, leaving only a few inches between their faces in doing so. Harley was _really_ trying not to kiss him.

“Then what _is_ the point?” he shot back instead.

“The point is that I care about you!” Peter yelled.

“Oh Lord, help me, Peter Parker _cares_ about me!” Harley countered, sarcasm dripping from his words. “So if I were a kitten you’d save me from a tree? I am _so_ lucky, ain’t—”

“I like you, Harley!”

Peter glared at him as if he was going to murder him on the spot, and Harley’s breath stuttered to a stop.

“And I’m _so fucking scared_ of it, but I can’t stand not letting you in, and I know that I’m probably gonna hurt you in the process, but I—” Peter broke off and looked down at the floor for a second, “—but I think I’d like to be _more_ than friends.”

“More than…” Harley closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then he opened them again to shake his head vehemently. “What do you—”

Peter groaned, and Harley almost choked on his words when he did that, and then Peter grabbed him by his shoulders and spun him around so that his face was bathed in this rosy light again and Harley’s back was pressed against the glass walls instead. He rose to his tiptoes. And then, Peter kissed him.


	21. may i suggest finger guns

It didn’t feel the way he had imagined it.

He didn’t feel Harley’s hands caressing his cheeks or his lips moving against his. In fact, Harley wasn’t responding at all.

_Shit._

Peter fell back onto his heels and stumbled back, still out of breath from all the yelling, his face burning hot. 

Harley was staring at him as if Peter had just slapped him in the face. His lips were slightly parted and his entire body was frozen to the spot, positively stunned into silence.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no._ Peter must have misunderstood everything that had been said in their conversation, maybe MJ had been wrong about how Harley felt about him, maybe Harley didn’t want them to be something more at all, maybe he had just destroyed their entire friendship and made an absolute fool of himself—

But then again, what did he have to lose? His dignity? No, he lost that when he called his mentor ‘dad’ in front of him because he was a pathetic child with daddy issues. Or when he ate the family size package of popsicles on one of their movie nights. Patience? Gone when Harley pushed in on him, eyes locked with his firmly. Time? He wasn’t going to lose any more of that.

“I’m definitely not straight,” he stated. “Very much not. Very bi, in fact. Preference for boys.”

Harley blinked. Peter didn’t look away.

“And — apparently — a preference for you.”

Harley’s breath hitched, and for a second Peter wondered whether this was cheating, analyzing every physical reaction Harley’s body offered him. And then Peter realized that MJ had been right and that he hadn’t misunderstood anything, because what other reason would there be for Harley’s heart to race even faster than his own?

Harley swallowed thickly. “Good to know,” he choked out.

And as the words left his mouth, adrenaline started coursing heavily through Peter’s body, so much of it that he nearly forgot how to breathe. He was glad that he didn’t really need to breathe for what he was about to do.

And as the sun connected with the rooftops every sound around them disappeared, blocked out, fading away as if they’d reached the eye of a hurricane, when this time as Peter closed the distance between them, Harley met him halfway. When this time, Harley _was_ responding.

Like puzzle pieces falling into place, Harley's hands pulled him in by his hips, pressing their bodies together as Peter leaned into him without restraint, tilting his head to connect their lips. His eyes fluttered shut. Why the hell did he spent so much time denying himself this?

Just when the answers were trying to sneak into his consciousness, he slammed the door shut right into their faces. _Don’t overthink this._

Instead, he focused on his hand on the cold window right next to Harley’s head, supporting him. He focused on the feeling of his lips never leaving Harley’s, killing every thought that wasn’t _him_ , on the feeling of his hand cupping Harley’s cheek to finally slip into his hair and card through the soft strands.

He focused on Harley as a soft whimper escaped his lips and he felt the other boy’s hands reach up to his chest and grasp at Peter's sweater to steady himself. He focused on _Harley, Harley, Harley,_ his best friend, his quarantine partner, his something _more_ — on Harley in his arms, kissing him back.

*

Peter kissed the way he talked. Passionate, unapologetic, and kind of all over the place. Disastrous in the best kind of way.

Harley still couldn’t be sure whether he hadn’t dreamed this moment into life, but there was something very real about the way his hand traveled up Peter’s spine with a mind of its own, the only word on his mind being _Peter, Peter, Peter._

Okay, maybe there were more than that. Like _Holy_ and _Shit_ for example.

He didn’t even care that Peter tasted of sesame chicken, which he utterly despised, or that he seemed to have lost any control over himself, the very thing he’d fought so hard to keep during their fight, because this was Peter whose motions were sending electricity through his veins and this was Peter who made him feel like if the wall behind him wasn’t there then he would have collapsed ages ago.

Harley's hand slid back down his spine, resting at his hip and Peter pulled back, the air that was leaving his lips brushing over Harley's. Peter’s arms were still resting on his shoulders, their bodies pressed together. Harley didn’t even know where to look first. At Peter’s flushed up face, or his red lips, the ones that he had just _kissed_ , or well, that had kissed _him_. They were so close, their noses brushed each other accidentally and before he could get even more freaked out about this entire situation, Harley drew him in again.

Peter was soft, and at the same time the complete opposite, but Harley couldn’t even bring himself to be surprised about _anything_ anymore. He didn’t even care right now what the fuck their fight had just turned into. How could he? Peter’s body curved into him when Harley took control, pressing his palms to Peter’s cheeks. Peter’s arms trailed down his sides, fingers digging into his hips. 

And then Harley nudged Peter backward, managing to squeak out a meek, "couch", because damn, this window was starting to freeze up his backside, and they stumbled into the room. Harley landed onto the couch, Peter falling into the cushions right next to him, their knees pressed against each other in an instant.

It felt like diving underwater, gasping for the sole purpose of being able to kiss again.

But soon their kisses melted away from that. They turned into brushes of lips between shaking breaths, until they’re out of energy and just left sitting there, Harley’s thumbs braced against Peter’s temples to hold him in place as he was just looking at him, beautiful and loving Peter.

The darkness was settling in around them, FRIDAY must’ve turned off the tv when they started arguing, so that the only noise were their heaves for air as they held onto each other. Harley let his forehead come to rest against Peter’s, and when he inhaled shakily, his scent was flooding Harley's senses like a broken dam.

From one second to the next, Peter pulled back. "Are you— Are you okay?"

Harley almost fell into his lap at the sudden motion, and although that probably wasn’t the most repulsive thing to happen, he caught himself.

"Harley? Are you okay?" Peter’s voice was coming out taut, his panicked eyes flickering over Harley’s body swiftly. What was he searching for?

_"Harls?"_

"Wha—Yeah, I’m fine, Peter, what’s going—" But he cut himself off, realizing. Trying to slow down his breathing, he swallowed heavily.

"I’m fine, Peter! I’m fine, I’m better than fine even," he insisted, holding out his hands, but Peter was still staring at him as if he was afraid Harley would faint if he were to even blink. Harley breathed in slowly and deep, never looking away from the distraught boy before him, his rapid breathing slowing down with every second.

"D’you remember this thing you told me about sea otters?" Harley said, not even thinking about it. He just wanted the fear in Peter’s eyes to disappear. "About how they hold hands so they don’t drift away from each other?"

Peter’s frown turned even deeper. "You remember...?"

"D'you wanna do that? Peter?" He reached for Peter’s shaking hands and gently interlaced their fingers, slowly, so that Peter could pull them back if he wanted to.

Only when Harley was pulling him into his chest and into a horizontal position on the couch, Peter relaxed slowly, his arm coming up to hook around his waist firmly, their legs slotting together as if they had done so a thousand times before. (They hadn’t.) (Which made Harley’s heart beat even faster in his chest.)

Peter’s breath was slowing down as well now, and he felt him mutter a quiet, “sorry” into the side of his neck.

“Nothing to be sorry about, darlin’," Harley said. "I'm right here."

Peter moved his head to look up at him with an amount of care in his eyes that made his head dizzy. Then Peter shifted back and they settled in silence, both holding onto the other one like they were not planning on letting go in the near future. It felt strange and new, the same way everything about the last minutes had felt like, and at the same time it felt familiar. Natural in the way their bodies fit together as they held each other, like there was a place molded into Harley's chest and his arms that Peter fit into perfectly.

"That was... way better than our first kiss," Harley whispered into the dark.

Peter giggled softly into his chest. If Harley’s heart hadn’t melted into a puddle several times this night, it would now.

"Yes. Yes, it was."

Just about half an hour ago, he felt like he had lost something he hadn’t even possessed, and now it felt like he had gained everything he didn’t even know he wanted.

And as Harley lay there, embracing Peter who was curled into his side, his head resting on his shoulder, he knew that there were things that they needed to talk about, real conversations they needed to have without breathlessly yelling confessions at each other, but he didn’t think they were happening tonight. No, for this night, right in this moment, the only thing he needed to do was to look at Peter, eyes closed and a soft smile on his lips, and hold him close.

And for tonight, that was more than enough.

*

**Peter:** I think I have a crush

**MJ:** You know, at some point in the future, maybe not all that far away, someone will tell you they love you, and you are going to say thank you.

 **MJ:** Because that’s the kind of dumbass you are.

**Ned:** may i suggest finger guns as another possible response

**MJ:** Yes you may.

**Peter:** sooooo

 **Peter:** you don’t want to know who it is?

*

**Tony:** I heard yelling from your floor last night, is everything alright?

**Peter:** yes all alright

 **Peter:** better than alright

**Tony:** What happened?

**Peter:** ……...nothing

**Tony:** Interesting.

**Peter:** no really not interesting at all

 **Peter:** mr stark?

 **Peter:** ??????

 **Peter:** DO NOT WATCH THE SURVEILLANCE VIDEO

 **Peter:** TONY!!!!!

**Tony:** I STOPPED WHEN YOU STARTED MAKING OUT IM SORRY I REGRET EVERYTHING IVE EVER DONE I THOUGHT YOU SET SOMETHING ON FIRE OR SO

 **Tony:** HOW DID I NOT ANTICIPATE THIS??

**Peter:** I want to die

 **Peter:** like.

 **Peter:** right now

**Tony:** Me too, buddy

 **Tony:** Me too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now you have to imagine that Friday only puts into writing what Tony expresses verbally;) (so like, imagine Tony in his lab, trying to rinse out his eyes to unsee, while crying out those texts towards the ceiling)


	22. my young padawan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always used to wonder how people on here could just abandon their stories like that and never come back. Like, they're their babies??? How could you leave them all unfinished and alone?  
> Well... I can tell now I guess. I just kind of lost the connection and didn't know where I was going with this, but now I'm here again and I still don't know what's going to happen but I'll try my best and finish this because I couldn't live with the knowledge that I abandoned my first baby ever. Yep. That was weird.  
> As always, enjoy, to whoever's still here:)

When Harley woke up, Peter was gone.

Harley had opened his eyes and brought up his hands to shield himself from the light streaming in through the enormous windows of the living area, almost slipping back into sleep as the warmth and general comfort of the couch invited him back greedily. But he didn’t give into the pull. Instead he shifted in the mold his body had pressed into the cushions and sat up, squinting his eyes against the sunlight.

Something wasn’t right.

When his eyes flickered to the glass walls, the mantle of sleepiness and haze finally lifted from his brain and the last night made its way back into his memories like a fever dream. There was Peter, saying things that didn’t make any sense to Harley, things that made him angry, because why would Peter say those things when Harley _knew_ that he didn’t mean them? Why would Peter ever say those things, things that made his breath hitch and his mind go blank? When Peter had started to kiss him though, he couldn’t bring himself to question anything. Because Peter had kissed him. Peter kissed him.

And even though all of that sounded like a wild fantasy, a scene Harley would only allow himself to make up in the dead of night when the other boy was fitfully sleeping in the room next door, he just _knew_ this wasn’t one of those hopeless fantasies.

Because now he felt an empty space between his arms and his chest, right there where Peter was supposed to be, a space he hadn’t ever felt before, because something couldn’t be empty if it wasn’t filled before.

  
  


*

May Parker was walking down a long corridor when a voice called her name. She turned without stopping in her tracks, still set on making her round before her shift was over at 9 a.m.. 

“May? Your nephew’s on the phone for you!”

That made her turn on her heels. Only a few seconds later she had the receiver pressed to her ear, the stress and hastiness slipping away, instead being replaced by a warm smile on her face when the boy greeted her with a small, “Hey, Aunt May.”

“Hi, honey, it’s so nice to hear from you!” She walked away from the staff room and leaned against the wall next to a window overlooking the city. She figured the other nurses would manage the last minutes without her before the staff alternated. “How are you and Harley doing? Did you see that amazing sunset last night? Almost magical,” she sighed, “I only caught a glimpse of it sadly.”

“Yeah, me too.”

May paused at the curt answer. “Peter? Everything alright?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.” Peter’s voice was soft, an underlying tone in it that told his aunt that his thoughts were somewhere completely different. “Harley and I watched the sunset too. It really was magical. But that’s… that’s not why I’m calling, not really at least,” he stuttered. “I just felt like I needed to... talk about this with someone. And my first thought was calling you and... ugh, this is probably totally uncalled for, but—” Peter inhaled heavily and May felt her brows knit together. She didn’t like the way Peter got all nervous and jittery, as if he was scared of telling her about whatever set him off so much.

“Just tell me, Peter.”

“Something happened. Between me and Harley.”

Peter fell silent, like now all was said that had to be said.

Between him and Harley? Did they finally— But why did he sound so anxious then? “Peter? What did Harley do?”

May felt a boiling kind of anger bubble up inside of her that made her push away from the wall in one swift motion and take a few steps into the hallway, eyes widening. If that boy had done _anything_ to Peter that he didn’t want, she would walk over to the tower herself, to hell with the regulations, and make sure Harley Keener would never be able to touch anyone ever again. Or see the light of the day.

She was already planning out a sudden departure from her shift when Peter cut off her rapid train of thoughts with an indignant squeal.

“No! Oh my God, he didn’t do anything to me!” he blurted out, “I— _I kissed him.”_

Oh.

_Oh._

May missed a beat. “Oh, honey… wow! For a second I thought…” May noticed one of her colleagues waving her over and she gave a frantic sign back, showing she was going to need a second. “But don’t mind me. That’s great, Peter! I’m so happy for you! How did it go?”

“Well, actually we were kind of... fighting? Because he said that he liked me and I said some stupid things and then all of it was coming together and I… I just…” he rambled, “kissed him, I guess.”

“My boy has a boyfriend, I almost can’t believe it,” she chuckled. “Well, we all knew you and Harley were going to—”

“You don’t even know him, May.”

“That’s true. But you know him. And I trust your judgement,” she said calmly. “Well. Most of the time at least.”

“Did I ever tell you about those movie nights we were having?” Peter prompted. May hummed in response, waiting for her nephew to elaborate. 

“I literally fell asleep next to him more nights than I slept in my own room,” Peter continued. “I talked to him about my parents, and Ben, and everything. And I just never—I never even let myself _think_ that all of it could mean something more than accidentally finding a new friend during quarantine? And that’s just…” He sighed. “I feel like I messed up, May. So bad. Because, I guess, he’s been feeling like this for some time, right? I don’t really know, but… all that time I was so stupid and now he probably thinks I’m a complete idiot—” 

May was about to interrupt him to tell him he may be an idiot in a lot of ways, but loving could never be one of them, when he broke off on his own.

“But at the same time, I just feel _so_ happy. Because—” Peter made some unintelligible noises that kind of sounded like a dying animal but were heart-warming all the same, and May had to grin, “he’s like the best person I’ve ever met and last night everything felt so right, like that’s what was supposed to happen from the beginning.” May huffed out a soft laugh. “Ugh, sorry, I just had to talk to someone about this. Just— Did you ever feel like this?”

May felt her smile falter at the hopeful question. When she heard Peter gasp she cursed herself for not answering immediately.

“Oh no! I— sorry, Aunt May, I didn’t think about what I’m saying, I’m sorry! Of course you did, I didn’t want to—”

“It’s fine, honey. You don’t need to apologize for asking. I did feel like this once. I still remember the day Ben asked me out on a date and I basically told everyone I knew, completely ignoring that no one cared. And if I can tell you one thing,” she started, feeling her throat closing up, “I never regretted saying yes, no matter what happened in the end. I would _never_ regret it. This is a good thing, Peter. It doesn’t matter how long it took you to realize or how it happened, as long as what you feel is true, there is no wrong you can do.”

Peter was silent for a while. “You’re so wise,” he muttered then, but the joking tone couldn’t cover up that the words had gotten to him.

“Don’t make fun of me, I do believe I can tell you some things about love, my young padawan.”

When Peter was done praising her excitedly for using a Star Wars reference, May was only laughing. To be honest, what interested her much more than making him so excited, was that he had not freaked out about her using the word _love_ at all. Truly interesting.

“We _will_ have to talk about sleeping arrangements now though, you know that, right?” she said then.

Peter inhaled sharply. “Okay, this conversation is over now,” he squeaked. “Oh, wait, I think he’s waking up slowly anyway. I should probably go back or he’ll wonder where I am.”

May was about to question his choice of having a crisis phone call in the same room Harley was sleeping in when she remembered his powers that in fact allowed him to hear someone's accelerating heartbeat from a few rooms away. Sometimes her nephew seriously made her head ache. “Go get him, honey.”

“Will do. Love you, May!”

“Love you too!”

*

Harley was still lost in thoughts about the space between his arms when Peter appeared in the doorway. He was wearing fuzzy socks and the same sweater he'd worn last night, and his eyes were so awake like he'd been up for days. No fever dream. No wild fantasy. Just ... Peter.

And now, his signature good morning smile was added to the apparition.

“Good morning, Harls.”

Harley smiled back.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he said. God, Abby would roll her eyes back so hard only the white would be visible anymore. Even he himself was cringing. Had that been too much, too soon?

But Peter only blushed in response. Of course he did.

Their eye contact lasted, and he found himself sent back to the last time he had stared at him like that, last night, when the sunset light was casting patterns on Peter’s face... Harley averted his eyes.

“Hey. So… I was wondering—” Peter chuckled lamely, rubbing his hand at the nape of his neck, and sat down on the other side of the couch, right at the edge, as if he was about to jump up again and run away any second.

“I was wondering whether you’d like… I mean, only in case you want to— we don’t have to if you don’t! I just thought that maybe we could…but there’s no pressure! Like, if you only wanted what happened last night I— I guess I—”

“Peter?” Harley cut him off. “What are you even—?”

“D’you wanna go on a date with me?” he blurted, but he said it so fast the words blurred together so much Harley stared at the other boy for some seconds. When he finally figured out what he'd said, he couldn’t help but keep staring, this time in disbelief. Maybe it had been a fever dream after all, maybe he was _still_ dreaming, that would make sense, right? At least more sense than whatever the hell was going on right now. He almost broke out and said something like, _Eww, no, why would I ever go out with you,_ just to cover up his shock, but stopped himself. That kind of joke had strong misunderstanding potential and God, they'd definitely had enough of that.

So what he said instead was, “I’d love that.” He hated how much his voice was shaking.

Peter broke into a full grin. “That’s great. Amazing,” he breathed. “So… how about— how about I, uhm, pick you up at seven? If that’s alright with you?”

What the hell did he even mean by ‘pick you up’? They were literally _living together_. He wasn’t going to argue though. “Sounds great, darlin’.”

They smiled at each other, Peter nodding solemnly. Harley could have burst in that moment. 

Instead he said, “I’m gonna go and make some breakfast, okay?” and as soon as Peter agreed with another round of nodding, he rose up from the couch and left for the kitchen.

And then, he was _so_ glad that Peter couldn’t see him anymore, and he didn’t care that FRIDAY would definitely record this and use it as blackmail material against him someday, because as soon as a wall was between them, he jumped into a completely ridiculous definitely-freaking-out-right-now, going-to-explode-with-happiness, pump-fist-in-air kind of dance session.

When he was done, he straightened himself up and walked further into the kitchen. He was going to make Peter the best post-make-out breakfast ever, if it was the last thing he ever did.

*

The pancakes turned out amazing. He even put bananas and berries in them, everything he could find in the magically (or rather FRIDAY-ly) everlasting food supply (he really did love the tower) and Peter rewarded him with adorable little sighs of relish as they sat together.

When they were halfway through the stack of pancakes though, Harley realized that a perfect breakfast wasn’t going to secure Peter’s heart. Because latching out in front of them was an entire day waiting to be filled. A day that had started with “Do you want to go on a date with me?” and was supposed to end with said date. Normally, under usual circumstances, out there in the normal world — between those two events was supposed to be an exhilarating kind of anticipation and mixed in panic. Normally, one wasn’t supposed to spend that time in between _with_ the one that panic was directed to.

So when they were done eating, Harley still hadn’t found a solution as to what the hell he was supposed to do now. Should he just act like nothing happened and go to the lab? Or should he acknowledge the fact that they had a pretty passionate evening last night? Should he just kiss him again?

Luckily, he didn’t have to decide. As soon as Peter had put his plate away he muttered something about needing to sort something out with Pepper and disappeared, leaving him to stand around awkwardly in the kitchen for some minutes, waiting and wondering whether he’d come back at some point. When he’d decided that he was gone for good, he put his plate away as well and made his way to the lab. 

He remembered it, all of it, every second of the last evening. And still he wondered. 

Peter Parker told him he liked him. He kissed him. Asked him out on a date. All facts, and if Harley’s brain wasn’t so messed up, maybe he would dare to believe it was real.

*

Tony enjoyed not being Tony. Ah okay, he phrased that weirdly. Tony enjoyed not having to do all the things Tony Stark usually had to do. He enjoyed not having to drag around the Avengers, not being chased by paparazzi every time of the day (yes, he was _The_ Tony Stark and yes, he knew he was very attractive, but hello, he looked the same every day?) and he enjoyed spending time with his family. What he enjoyed most though, was getting to wake up next to his wife for once. Other days he was working in the lab until early in the morning, only to miss Pepper waking up because she had already left for another one of her super busy work days.

Well, he was still working in the lab until early in the morning, but now that Pepper didn’t have to handle thousands of employees who needed to talk to her in about an hour every day, she was still next to him when he woke from his few hours of beauty sleep. (This night it hadn’t been much of a beauty sleep though. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen his two boys in the penthouse just one level away from him, and Peter, innocent Peter Parker kissing Harley like he was going to suffocate if he didn’t. He didn’t like the view.) So when he woke up from even less hours of sleep than he got normally, his arm instinctively reached out for the other side of the bed — only to grasp at nothing.

Of course. Exactly today, when he’d had to watch the two last bearers of hope for the next generation being all over each other. (Okay, maybe he’d screamed at FRIDAY to stop the video as soon as Peter’s mouth even came close to Harley’s, but he wasn’t too old to know what happened after that anyway.)

Grumpily, Tony sat up, dressed and walked out into the kitchen, where he found his wife sitting on a kitchen stool.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she said as she noticed him.

“Why weren’t you in bed?”

Pepper chuckled at his reproachful tone. “Peter just called me,” she said, pushing a mug of coffee into his direction.

He frowned. “What did he want?”

“He said he needed my help… for a special occasion.”

She smirked at him as if he would now guess what she was talking about, but Tony was definitely to tired for that and also very not in the mood to talk about anything Peter-related, so he just shrugged.

"He told me that last night... some events took place, which now led to him almost having a panic attack because he didn't know how to wear this evening." When Tony still didn't answer, she continued, "To his date with _Harley._ "

He sighed. 

“You’re not surprised? Why are you not surprised? I'm proud of how cryptic I sounded!”

“Ugh.” Tony sat down at the counter too, and buried his head in his hands.

“What’s going on, Tony?” When he didn’t answer but only grumbled in response, she asked, “FRIDAY?”

“Boss demanded the video surveillance of last night this morning,” the AI reported almost slyly. Tony groaned. That traitor. Sometimes he cursed his own genius.

Pepper thought for a second, before she broke into laughter. “Oh, Tony, why can’t you ever leave Peter to deal with his business alone?”

“That’s what you call business? He’s a child!”

“He’s a teenager. And don’t act like you didn’t see this coming, we all knew this would happen. I would’ve been more worried if it hadn’t.”

Tony shrugged, although she was right, of course. They had all known that it was only a matter of time (lots of time as it turned out) until one of them would make a move. Tony had to admit, he didn’t particularly despise their relationship. As much as his eyes were still itching from the sight last night, as grateful he was that he wouldn't have to interrogate Peter to find out who he was dating and he also didn't need to worry about all the background checks he'd have to run on whoever corrupted Peter.

“You know what this means.”

“That I won’t ever be able to look at them again?”

Pepper glared at him half-heartedly.

“That I’ll have to ensure Harley doesn't chicken out last minute?”

“Exactly. And you know what else.”

Tony looked at her and sighed. She just raised a brow. "Yes, I'll do it." The problem was he really, really, _really_ didn’t want to.


End file.
